


Endless Possibilities

by MasterOfFools



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, F/M, Funny, Harry Potter is Not the Boy-Who-Lived
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:00:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22576726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasterOfFools/pseuds/MasterOfFools
Summary: "You are surrounded by endless possibilities. Your potential being the sum of your beliefs." Harry Potter liked games, playing them, debating about them, everything to do with them. So, what would any respectable gamer do when presented with magic? Everything.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

**Welcome to the first chapter of Endless Possibilities. I have no idea why I wrote this story. Take nothing seriously and I do not own Harry Potter.**

**Hagrid POV**

“You’re a wizard, Harry.” Hagrid said proudly, lips pulled up into a wide smile as he looked down at the small, thin, boy standing in front of him who’s eyes were filling with wonder and… glee?

“Firebolt!” The small boy shouted, whirling around and pointing his finger at the older Dursley’s standing at the stairs, the fat man’s face completely red.

Everyone froze, silent, the older Dursley’s were frozen in fear, their eyes bulging as they waited for the inevitable. The younger one was also standing stock-still, trembling in his flannel pyjamas as he looked at his parents. Harry… Well, Harry was staring at his finger, anticipation clear in his eyes, smiling broadly. But as he watched, confusion started filling his eyes as he stared bewildered at his finger.

Wheeling around, Hagrid was taken aback as Harry shot him a look, annoyance clear in his voice, “I thought you said I was a wizard.”

“…You are.” Hagrid responded slowly, still not understanding what was going on.

Harry arched an eyebrow, “Well then, then this should work.”

He once again turned to the Dursley’s throwing his head up into the sky and thrust his arms to the side, “Oh, goddess Azura! Hear me speak and aid me in my quest! Grant me your power!”

Then, thrusting both of his hands towards the Dursley’s, he shouted power filling his voice, shocking Hagrid at its intensity.

**“Fireball!!!”**

Hagrid stepped back in surprise as a massive ball of fire emerged from Harry’s hands, washing the old shack in orange light as it streaked towards the fear stricken older Dursley’s. He recovered quickly, stepping forward as he fumbled at his umbrella, rushing to stop the ball of fire.

Only for his efforts to be unneeded as the ball of fire winked out of existence, disappearing in an instant and saving the Dursley’s from imminent death.

“Yes!” Harry crowed, thrusting his arms up into the air as he jumped around, joy emanating from him, “I did it! I’m a wizard! I am the Dragonborn!”

He twisted around, pointing commandingly at Hagrid, “Hagrid! Tell me where I can find Alduin!”

**Hermione POV**

Hermione’s first real interaction with a magical of her age, or even the first with person her age in a while, was… interesting to say the least.

She and her parents had arrived in Platform Nine and a Three-Quarters quite easily, following the clear instructions of Professor McGonagall to the letter. Although her father had been very hesitant to run into the wall, until her mother had somehow managed to threaten him into submission.

After their arrival, she had hugged her parents once more, promising her mother that she would call -owl- them as soon as she could. Hermione had shrunk into herself slightly when her mother had spoken about all the friends she would make. After another tearful hug, her parents had let her board the train, just before it was to depart.

Inside, she had looked for a compartment and had finally found one that was at least partly empty halfway down the train. Inside, a boy, around her age, was sitting comfortably as he read a thick and old book, one which Hermione eyed appreciatively.

Summoning her courage and knocking on the door, she opened it as the boy looked up, black hair bobbing as it followed his motion. Swallowing slightly under the intense (and slightly crazed) gaze that the emerald green eyes put her under.

“Um…” She started nervously, “Can I sit here?”

The emerald eyes blinked at her, slightly confused, before seemingly suddenly realising that she was actually talking to him, nodding madly, he replied, “Sure.”

“Thank you.” She muttered as she settled down opposite him, trying not to bump into him. They fell into silence after that. The boy was reading his book, avidly sifting through the pages, but at each turning of a page his face would fall slightly.

Curious at what was causing this reaction, Hermione asked, curiosity overcoming her fear, “What book are you reading?”

“Huh?” The boy muttered as he looked at her, puzzled at the sudden question, “Oh, it’s _A Guide to Dragons: The Complete Edition_. I’m looking for a dragon I know of.”

Hermione gasped, leaning forwards, “A book about dragons?! I’ve read all about them. Have you seen one before?”

“No,” The boy responded, his head shaking sadly, before it shot up, excitement blooming in his eyes, “But I will. Soon. I’m looking for one now, although Hagrid told me he hasn’t heard of him. Maybe he was lying?”

Not understanding who Hagrid was, Hermione focused on the dragon the boy was talking about, “Is it a rare one? I heard that many of the bigger and more dangerous breeds have been hunted for their skin and tee-“

“What!” The boy exploded, jumping up and grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and looking her straight in the eyes, “Are you sure the dragons are harvested for their skin? Is there anything else?”

Hermione replied slowly, taken aback by the sudden questioning, never having faced a situation like this before, “I’ve read up about the harvesting. It’s not only teeth, but bladder’s, liver. Anything useful for potions or rituals is taken. I saw that dragon organs are some of the best ingredients for the Rituals of Power and Mind.”

The boy let her go, stepping back to sit back on his seat. He was shaking, his mouth drawn into a large beaming smile, his eyes were alight were excitement and glee. Hermione watched him worriedly, she had seen one of her father’s patients in a seizure before. Was it something she did? Should she call a prefec-

 **“Loot!!!”** The boy screamed in utter joy, as he grabbed his book and flipped through it quickly, the pages flashing, “Loot exists. I’m coming for you Alduin. And you Belial.”

He paused his mumbling as he looked over his book, his green eyes looking at her curiously, “Who are you?”

Hermione paused; he had asked for her name. Why? This hadn’t happened in a while, how should she react? Hesitantly, she opened her mouth.

“Hermione Granger. And yours?”

“I’m Harry Potter.” He replied, before diving back into his book, “And I think we’re going to be very good friends.”

Astonished, Hermione gaped in surprise. Her mind and thoughts completely frozen as she repeated what he had said inside.

‘Good friends’

She blinked back tears as she absorbed the warmth of those words. Looking to the green-eyed boy flipping through his book furiously, she turned her head and drew her book, all the while smiling as the mumbles of her new maybe-friend filled the compartment. Although they were pretty weird. Especially, the constant, ravenous, murmurings of ‘Legendary’ and dragon bones.

**McGonagall POV**

McGonagall sighed as she waited behind the large doors that led into the entrance hall. How long could Hagrid be taking. If they were not here soon, then they would be late.

However, her thoughts were cut off by the sound of large crack next to her. Turning, McGonagall let out a breath of relief when she saw it was the house elf, she had sent to warn her when Hagrid was coming. Couldn’t let herself be taken by surprise, could she? It would be horrible for her hard-maintained and cultivated reputation.

“Deputy Headmissy McGonny.” The elf, Elly, squeaked, “Biggy is coming soon.”

“Thank you, Elly.” McGonagall, inclining her head, “Now, please help the other elves in the kitchen.”

Nodding her head wildly, the house elf popped away. McGonagall faced the gigantic doors once again, righting her hat and drawing herself up.

As soon as the large knocks sounded at the door, she waved her wand, wordlessly opening the doors. She stepped forward, standing in front of Hagrid and the crowd of children, who had gone silent at the sight of her, respect clear in her eyes. She smiled inwardly, she still had it. Nodding at Hagrid in gratitude, she dismissed him to go to the Great Hall.

“Welcome to Hogwarts.” She stated imperiously, looking down at the students with a discerning eye, looking for any troublemakers, “Premier School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

She turned around smoothly, gesturing for the crowd of students to follow her. Stepping into the Entrance Hall, she stopped in front of the doors that led to the Great Hall.

“Soon the sorting will begin.” McGonagall began, her piercing eyes glancing at the walls, where were they?

As if they had read her mind, screams sounded as Hogwarts’s ghosts glided through the wall, seemingly chattering in between themselves. McGonagall’s mouth threatened to fall into a smirk at the familiar sight, but she managed to will it to staying a straight line. Step 2 was finished, now it was her turn again.

“Enough!” She asserted, her voice echoing off the walls and instantly stilling the nervous children, “These are the ghosts of Hogwarts, they will not harm you. But realise that they can and _will_ watch you, protect you. Yet, if any rules are broken, then…” She trailed off threateningly, her satisfaction growing at the signs of fear and nervousness everyone had when she looked at them. Oh, the plan was going flawlessly.

“Come.” She said simply, thanking Snape as she whirled around for his kind… donation of the spell to make her robes flair grandiosely. She snorted slightly at the thought of her colleague. He would fall this year, most of his tactics were so… primitive.

Walking through the Hall, she looked straight ahead, drinking in the painful grimace on Snape’s face. This was the fourth year he had campaigned to be the one to welcome the new students, but McGonagall had ensured Dumbledore would not accept. So, Snape was doomed to always start as the losing one.

Reaching the old, worn stool with the threadbare Sorting Hat on it, she stood next to it and rolled open a scroll she produced from her pocket.

“First, I will call your names.” She announced, causing any faint whispers to disappear immediately, “Then you shall come up and the Sorting Hat will choose your house.”

She looked down on the scroll and picked up the hat, “Hannah Abbott.”

Lowering the scroll, McGonagall looked sharply at the approaching girl, scrutinising her, looking for that flair, that air talented witches and wizards exuded. Nymphadora Tonks had it, James Potter had as well, especially for Transfiguration, Dumbledore was it. But finding nothing, she dully plonked the hat on the shaking girl.

“Ah,” The hat said as it wriggled on Abbott’s head, causing her to shriek, “I see. Loyal, yes. Unambitious, yet studious. I believe it is… Hufflepuff!!!”

The Abbott Girl sprang up, wrenching the hat of her, before sending a fleeting smile, that quickly turned into an expression of fear, towards McGonagall. Sighing inside for what felt like the thousandth time today, McGonagall continued, readying for a period of listening to the Hat’s mad ramblings.

The rest of the students were not much more interesting than the Abbott girl. Her friend the Bones girl joined her in Hufflepuff. Millicent Bulstrode was the first to be sorted into Slytherin, meaning the first one she marked as a lost cause for now. A muggleborn, Hermione Granger, had piqued her interest. She had that air around her and that made her interesting. It wasn’t often a muggleborn had one of those. Lily Potter was the best of the lot that McGonagall knew, or had known.

Daphne Greengrass was sorted to Slytherin, another one with the air. Although McGonagall was impressed with the façade the girl put up. She could have frozen the sun with how ice-cold her gaze was.

The Malfoy boy was sorted to Slytherin, the Hat calling out the result just as McGonagall had lowered it onto the boy. She shot a subtle, victorious glance towards Snape, knowing that he wouldn’t almost scare his godson to death.

“Harry Potter.”

Potter appeared quickly, almost running towards her in her haste. She scrutinised him carefully as he came closer. His green eyes were so similar to Lily’s, it almost bought a tear to her eye. But the rest, the rest was all James Potter. The hair, the smile, everything.

Excitedly, Potter sat on the stool, eagerly waiting for her to put the Hat on him. McGonagall did so quickly, wanting to hide his face from her for a while, unwilling to allow her reputation and plan to go to smoke due to her sorrow for his parent’s death.

“Yes, I am a magic item.” The Hat’s amused voice bought her out of her thoughts, drawing her out of her misery, “No, I do not give stat points.”

What were they talking about?

“No,” The Hat continued, as he seemed to override Potter’s mumbled reply, “I do not believe I provide extra Magicka or Intelligence.”

The Hat bent over slightly, his voice lowering to a whisper that McGonagall strained to catch, “Although, I do help with Memory Recall. Godric used me for it often.”

A short pause followed as McGonagall looked at the pair with a raised eyebrow, still confused with what they were talking about. Why wasn’t the Hat sorting Potter? Was something wrong with the enchantments?

“Yes,” The Hat said, the amusement more present than before, “I know the Ritual used to create me and the one to increase Intelligence. But for now, we must part. I believe that for your utter devotion to following your… dreams you will be **Gryffindor!** ”

McGonagall took the Hat of Potter’s head, although the boy seemed unwilling, though his grumbling soon stopped with a stern glare from her. Hopping up, Potter started to walk towards the rabidly cheering table surrounded by banners of red and gold.

“Potter.” The Hat called quietly, attracting only the startled McGonagall and the still moody Potter’s attention, “Look up Scandinavian Shoutdrakes. Your answer lies there.”

Potter grinned wildly, his eyes flashing with delight, before turning to walk to the Gryffindor table. McGonagall eyed him warily, why the Hat would feel the need to tell a boy to search for dragons, she did not know. But she knew one thing very well.

Potter was different, a challenge that she would tackle with great effort to complete her goal.

To show that infernal potions master his place and let the very mention of her name invoke fear in all.

**Daphne POV**

Daphne Greengrass was extremely excited for Charms. Well, who wouldn’t be? She had looked forward to this class for years. While the previous Charms lessons had been all theory, today would be different. Today they would learn real magic.

Wingardium Leviosa.

It was a simple spell in truth, a simple swish and flick that they had practiced for weeks now and then the feather would rise into the air and float. That was all the did, little else, but Daphne could think of many other things that she would be able to do with the spell. No need to get out of bed for a book or a cup of water. She could lift Tori into the air whenever she annoyed her.

She smiled slightly at her last thought. It would be suitable payback for what Tori had done on the morning Daphne had left for Hogwarts. She had almost not noticed the colour potion until she had, fortunately, smelled it. Revenge would be sweet.

But she tore herself away from her thoughts of righteous revenge, focusing on the matter at hand. When she arrived at Charms with the rest of her house, Professor Flitwick had split them into pairs, one Slytherin with one Gryffindork. And guess who Daphne was paired with?

Potter.

She didn’t know how to handle this new situation. Her entire life she had been preparing for her time in Hogwarts. For the politicking and the backstabbing that was the norm in Slytherin. But now all her training had left her.

At least Potter was seemingly better than the rest of his house. Merlin be damned if she was paired with Longbottom. A relationship of any kind, even just one in class, with The Boy Who Lived was political suicide for a Slytherin, especially a first year like Daphne. The same went with Granger and Weasley, so Potter seemed to be the best choice.

But as she watched the grinning, emerald eyed boy, hanging onto Professor Flitwick’s every word, she couldn’t help but feel she was completely wrong in her assumption.

“Magic,” Professor Flitwick said, drawing her away from her wandering thoughts, “Is the greatest gift given to this world to us.”

He was standing calmly on his stack of books, looking over them with a visible excitement as he rubbed his hands, “Without magic, the world would be so much duller, so much less interesting.”

“Magic can do almost anything.” He swept his hands grandiosely around him, “With it you can raze cities to the ground and create massive storms that can engulf the world.”

Daphne shifted slightly as she felt excitement bubbling inside her. Casting a glance around, she managed to catch sight of Potter grinning crazily as he leaned forward in anticipation.

Professor Flitwick cracked a grin, “But for now, we must start with the basics. Please remember a swish and a flick while pronouncing Wingardium Leviosa clearly. But most importantly, remember the core of magic.”

Hopping off from his tack of books, Professor Flitwick said one simple thing, “Intent.”

Then with another flourish of his hands, he really loved doing that, he set them to start. Daphne turned her gaze to the feather lying in front of her. She grinned slightly in anticipation as she raised her wand, pointing it straight at the feather.

“Wingardium Leviosa.” She stated clearly, swishing and flicking her wand, satisfaction filling her at finally being able to do this. She wanted to become the greatest witch of all time, and now she could start that journey. This was real magic, this was her future, this was a… failure?

She stared unblinkingly at her feather, still lying on her desk, not having moved an inch. She failed? How? This wasn’t supposed to be the start of her road to greatness.

No! She shook her head slightly, cutting her train of thought off. This was merely her first try at real magic. Even Morgana Le Fay had to start somewhere. She just had to get this spell right, and then her journey would begin.

Taking in a deep breath, she swished and flicked her wand once more, following Professor Flitwick’s exact words. A swish and a flick, “Wingardium Leviosa.”

Once again nothing happened, she gritted her teeth, growling “Wingardium Leviosa.”

Nothing happened.

“Wingardium Leviosa.” She dragged the words out now. But still, nothing happened.

“Wingardium Leviosa.”

“Wingardium Leviosa.”

She drew in a breath through her clenched teeth, she had to do this. She would not fail again. The feather would rise. Would! She cleared her mind, leaving only that single thought opened her mouth to begin the spell, before another voice cut in, breaking her concentration.

“Wingardium Leviosa.” The voice was filled with excitement and expectation. It held a quiet confidence, as if the owner couldn’t believe they might fail. And it belonged to Potter.

Daphne watched, her eye twitching as Potter’s feather rose slowly in the air, as if carried by invisible strings. Potter was smiling broadly, moving in his wand in circles, the feather mirroring him.

“Well done, Mr Potter!” Professor Flitwick said, smiling as he looked up at the floating feather, “Very well done. I see you have your mother’s gift for Charms. 10 points to Gryffindor.”

To the side, Daphne noticed how Longbottom was staring at Potter with a slight frown on his face, his eyes held an unexplainable emotion. He flicked his hand, as if in irritation, before turning back to his feather and continuing to wave his wand at it.

“Need help Greengrass?” Potter’s voice once again drew her attention. He was staring at her, an amused glint present in his eyes as Professor Flitwick walked away, “You seem slightly unfocused.”

“I don’t need help Potter.” Daphne replied, keeping her voice as cold and emotionless as possible, “And my mind is as focused as it can be.”

Potter lifted his hands in mock surrender, his smile irritatingly wider than before, “Excuse me for offering to help then. It just looked like you were really struggling for a moment there.”

“Does a viper need help from a kitten to slay its prey?” Daphne hissed back, her eyes flashing with anger.

“A toothless viper does.” Potter shrugged, “And I haven’t seen any sign of teeth yet.”

Daphne smirked dangerously, “Do you want to see?”

Potter dared to laugh, leaning backwards on his chair, “Well, seeing as you don’t even know a single spell, I don’t think I need to be worried.”

Daphne scowled, but her anger suddenly turned into wonder when she noticed something. Holding her wand and pointing it subtly at the smiling boy, out of Professor Flitwick’s sight, she summoned her will, clearing her mind. Slowly, she felt her mind fall into ease, her frustration melting away. She felt the air around her, the chair she sat on.

She felt her magic.

It was warm, comforting. It surrounded her, flowed through her. It protected her, breathed life into her. It was her.

In a flash she opened her eyes, focusing on the leg of Potter’s chair. She _pushed_ the magic out. She willed it into place, not needing words or wand movements. She only thought.

With a loud crack, Potter’s chair leg broke apart, taking the grinning boy by surprise as he fell. His breath was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for breath as he lay there surprised.

Daphne leaned over him, flicking her dirty blonde hair over her shoulder. She smiled victoriously at the stunned boy, making sure no one else could see it.

“Remember Potter.” She mocked, drinking in his expression of disbelief and committing it to memory.

“Intent is the core of magic.”

**Ron POV**

In Ron Weasley’s mind, there was only one thing that surpassed sleeping in greatness.

Food.

In his mind, food was the greatest magic that ever existed. What would life be without chicken? Without gravy? Without cake?

Well, Ron Weasley knew the answer. Nothing. Life would be nothing if not for food, so Ron made sure to always eat as much of it as he could. And that was why Halloween was one of his favourite days of his time at Hogwarts each day. It had the feast. An evening of pure beauty and enjoyment.

The day had started normally. They had finally been able to learn their first spell in Charms. Wingardium Levioso, or was it Leviosa? Anyway, Ron had been too focused on the coming feast to pay attention. He could always learn the spell later. Ginger had bothered him during the lesson as well, acting like she knew everything. Well, Ron had shown her. She had run off, probably crying at how she had no friends.

Which Ron Weasley had a lot off. Bean Thomas sat next to him, leaning away an expression of… disgust, no it must be sadness at how slow he seemed to be at eating this wonderful food. Neville Porkbottom opposite him had the same expression. It must be incredibly sad to live like them, deprived of the joy of eating as much as Ron.

Harry Butter sat next to Neville and he was the only one not lamenting the lack of joy in their life. Ever since his fall in Charms, Ron had sniggered hard at the sight, he had an emotion in his eyes that Ron just barely couldn’t put a name on. Was it anger? No, although likely because he was barely eating. Sadness? No. Wait, there. Eagerness.

He continuously flashed his eyes behind Ron, towards the other tables. His eager eyes seemingly focusing on something before they rapidly returned to his food. He kept on mumbling about revenge and a declaration of war. Ron didn’t care. It was distracting him from eating.

Once again, his mind focused on the food in front of him. Ravenously, he tore at his ninth drumstick, ripping of two more ahead of time. No need to waste time at the feast. However, before he could bite into them, the large doors burst open, hitting the walls with aloud thud. Drumsticks in hand, he turned to look at who dared to stop Ron Weasley from eating.

It was Professor Quirrell. He rushed through the doors; an expression of pure terror plastered on his face. He faltered as he came into the room, his eyes wide as he shouted, “Troll in the dungeons!”

Then he fainted as pandemonium spread through the hall. Students were jumping from their seats and rushing to the doors. Were they running away from food?! No, it couldn’t possibly be. Ron wouldn’t run. If they left it would just mean more food for him. His eyes glinted as Harry sprang to his feet, drawing his wand and shouting out something about a Mini boss. One less person to take his drumsticks away from him now.

“Silence!” Dumbledore bellowed as he stood up, immediately silencing the screaming crowd of students, “Please calm down! All students, please head back to your houses under the supervision of your prefects!”

He cast his piercing gaze down towards them, “I expect total obedience or else the consequences will be severe!”

He then swept down from the teacher’s table, rushing through the door, Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall following him. As Dumbledore walked past, Ron felt the hairs on the back of the neck rising. Dumbledore was radiating magic, magic so powerful it was almost tangible.

“Come on Ron!” Percy’s voice cut through his wandering thoughts, “You too Harry! Now!”  
Ron started at his brother’s voice, scowling at the prat. What about his food? But he could only helplessly hold onto his two drumsticks as his brother forced him to stand. Thinking quickly, he grabbed two napkins. Wrapping them around the drumsticks, he frowned as his brother shouted at him to put the food away and start walking.

However, his pockets were full of sweets already, so he couldn’t fit them anywhere. Looking around, an idea, a horrible one really, struck him as soon as he saw Butter, who was walking slouched, a very visible scowl on his face, next to him.

“Hey Harry.” He called, attracting the boy’s questioning gaze, “Can you keep these in your pocket for me?”

Holding out the two wrapped drumsticks, he almost cried when Butter nodded absently, grabbing and putting them in his pockets carelessly. Ron watched him carefully, eyes focused on his dormmates pockets as they joined the back of the line.

Quickly, they exited the Great Hall, climbing up the stairs on their way to the Gryffindor Common Room. Everyone was walking quietly and in neat rows, seemingly having listened to Dumbledore’s instructions. Well, almost everyone was walking quietly.

One of the girls in his year, Ron thought it was Parvati Patty, was talking quietly to another one of the girls, “I hope Hermione’s still not in the bathroom, McGonagall might punish her if she finds her.”

“Do you think we should tell the prefects?” Came the hushed reply as a collective shudder ran through the group at McGonagall’s name.

“No need.” Parvati replied, “The trolls only in the dungeon and she’s on the second floor. So, what could go wrong?”

In front of Ron, Butter stiffened at the conversation, before turning to Parvati with wide eyes, his whispered to himself, eyes wide with fear, “It can’t be. She said it. She said it…”

Then, in a flash he bolted into the door next to them, disappearing into it quietly and not alerting anyone except Ron. Ron blinked for a moment, stopping in his tracks as his mind processed what had just happened.

Finally, realising what had just happened, Ron growled as he darted after the black-haired boy, taking care not to alert the others. As soon as he was through the door, he bolted after Butter. He had stolen his food! How dare he! No one stole Ron Weasley’s food and got away with it.

Quickly, they ran through the corridors, Ron finding an energy he never knew he had as he ran after the errant thief.

Ahead he saw Butter run around a corner, wand in hand. However, Ron furrowed his brows as Butter soon reappeared, jumping back around the corner much faster than he disappeared. His eyes were wide, the whites of them glinting in the bright torchlight.

“Butter!” Ron shouted as he came closer, almost in touching distance, “How dare you –“

His stopped straight in his tracks and bit his words back in fear as the thief levelled his wand straight at Ron, just between his eyes. But Ron noticed how the wand was trembling, actually Butter was shaking all over.

Silently, Butter raised a trembling finger to his lips, holding it in a shushing gesture. Ron quieted down as spectacled boy lowered his wand before pointing around the corner, murmuring a single hushed word.

“Look.”

Confused, Ron hesitantly stepped forward and looked around the corner. In a flash he drew back as soon as he could, hugging the wall and holding onto it to quiet his beating heart. Summonig his courage, he and Butter peeked around the wall.

The troll. It was lumbering down the hallway, dragging a gigantic club behind it. It was taller and wider than Ron and could easily crush them.

Swallowing, Ron looked at Butter, for once not focusing on the food, “Let’s go.”

“We can’t.” Butter whispered back, as the troll hesitated next to a large door, before slowly opening the door.

“Why not?” The troll was entering the room now, one that Ron new but he couldn’t remember for the love of food.

Butter motioned towards the door as it closed behind the troll, his words heavy, “I think Hermione’s in there.”

A loud scream rang from the room, one that Ron now identified as the Second Floor Girls Bathroom. It rang around the walls, piercing deep into Ron’s ears. Slowly, he turned to meet Butter’s eyes. For once, his eyes lacked that eagerness. Instead, it now carried heaviness and a slight hint of fear.

“Harry,” Ron whispered, realising he was trembling like Butter, “Just give me the food and –“

Butter ignored him, sprinting around the corner and towards the room, clutching his wind tightly in his grip. Ron’s eyes latched onto the boy and realising what was happening, they slid over to Butter’s pockets flying behind him. His food.

With a loud roar, courage filled him as he sped after Butter. He needed that food! It was heavenly!

He crashed through the doors just after Butter, finding him staring at the large troll as it loomed over Ginger, who was hugging the wall, trapped. The bathroom was in pieces. Pieces of the broken sink littered the floor, most of the stall doors had been reduced to scraps of wood.

“Hermione!” Butter screamed, grabbing a broken piece of sink at the side. With a loud heave, he whipped it towards the troll, managing to hit it in the head. The troll paused it’s advance towards Ginger. Then, with a menacing brutality it swung around, settling its club heavily on the floor, which cracked slightly. Its face was misshapen, eyes uneven and teeth crooked as it smiled dumbly at them.

“Butter!” Ron bit, backing away slowly, “What are you doing?!”

Butter raised his hands in the air, magic crackling in the air and lifting Ron’s hair up slightly, “Sparks!”

A brilliant bolt of lightning crackled from his hands, arcing towards the surprised troll and slamming straight into its chest. The troll took a massive step backwards, almost falling, but it managed to steady itself as it shook its head.

Next to Ron, Butter lowered his hand, disbelief evident on his face as he looked at the troll. The troll that was now thudding towards them with the dumb smile on its face still there. Both Ron and Butter were still frozen, still not understanding how the troll was standing.

However, as the troll swung its giant hand towards them, both managed to start moving. They ducked under the large hand, running around the troll towards its other side. But with a shattering thud, the troll swung its club at them, slamming into the floor and broken stalls and sending a shower of debris towards them.

Both of them were knocked off their feet, Ron’s vision slightly filling with blackspots. But he rushed to stand up, shaking his head to get rid of them as he backpedalled away as the troll swung another hand at them. But the troll wasn’t aiming for him. Butter just managed to dive out of the way, but Ron’s gaze filled with horror as his cloak was caught by the troll, who ripped it off the emerald eyed boy.

The troll squeezed the cloak hard, realising only a few seconds later Butter wasn’t in it. With a disgruntled face, it threw the cloak away, causing it to land in a heap on one of the broken stalls. Ron’s eyes followed every move, specifically its pockets as he realised what the troll had just done.

“You bastard!” He shouted, raising his wand as the troll once again raised its club, “You destroyed my food!”

Then, with a sharp clarity that even he never thought would happen, he waved his wand in a swish and a flick, determinedly intoning, “Wingardium Leviosa!”

With a rush of warmth, the troll’s club lifted from its hands, flying up into the air to hover over the troll. The monster looked up at its wayward weapon, confusion evident in its tone as it grunted and tried to fruitlessly grab it.

“Take this!” Ron yelled as he thrust his wand down, the club mimicking his motion. With the sickening sound of bone crunching it smashed into the troll’s head. Next to Ron, Butter once again intoned his spell, summoning another bolt of lightning and sending it to the beast’s head.

The club fell to the ground with a loud thump, settling on a spot next to them. The troll seemed to wobble on its feet, blood running freely from its horribly burnt nose and eyes. Then, it seemed to lose its balance, falling backwards as another sickening crunch sounded when its head hit the floor.

Time seemed to stop as Ron held in his breath, horribly expecting the troll to stand up again. But he let out a loud breath, mirrored by Butter, when the troll didn’t move. Slowly, the two boys inched forward, coming to a stop next to the it’s still head.

“Is it alive?” Ron asked hesitantly, as he stared at the bleeding head with a grotesque horror. Butter hesitantly, nudged the had with his food, jumping back as soon as he touched it, wand raised as the troll let out a bloody snort.

“Yes.” Butter breathed, wand lowering as his shaking started to visibly ease, “But unconscious.”

But both high-strung boys whirled around, wands levelled at the doors as they burst open, revealing… Professor McGonagall?

Ron sagged backwards at the familiar faces, knowing that they were safe now. Suddenly, his body seemed weak and tired. He could barely stand as it was. How did he not realise this before? When did this happen?

“Potter! Weasley!” McGonagall shouted, her famed and feared face set in a angry glare, “What are you doing here?!”

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but his mind shook as he remembered his main purpose here and what had happened to it. He whirled around, rushing towards the tattered cloak lying at the side. He crashed to his knees next to it frantically checking the pockets.

He let out a choked sob when he discovered the flattened drumsticks in them. He could barely believe it. The glorious food, all gone, all gone. He slumped over, holding the cloak to his chest as he mourned it’s passing.

“Mister Weasley!” McGonagall roared, though Ron ignored her, “I ask again. What are you doing here?!”

“They saved me.” Ginger’s voice came from the side as Ron kept his eyes closed, remembering all the good times he had with his drumsticks, “I wanted to see the troll and they knocked it unconscious to protect me.”

A strangled gasp sounded across the room, “Ms Granger! I am shocked. 5 points from Gryffindor for your irresponsible actions. I expected better.”

“Sorry Professor.” Ginger’s meek voice replied.

“Weasley stand up.” McGonagall ordered, forcing Ron to abandon his mourning, though he kept the cloak tight in his hands, unwilling to let it go. Looking at McGonagall, he saw her face was hard, her mouth set in a grimace.  
“Normally, I would deduct points for disobeying a teacher’s instructions.” McGonagall started, her eyes boring into his and Butter’s, but she swallowed a heavy sigh as she struggled to create a tortured smile. Yes, who could truly smile when food had been destroyed. It was truly dark times.

“But I believe for your brave actions, each of you deserve 10 house points for bravery and saving a fellow housemate.”

Later on, in bed, Ron lied quietly, thoughts wandering about the evening that had just occurred. It had been a tragic day. His very first Halloween feast had been interrupted, his food destroyed by a troll and he had been unable to convince Professor McGonagall to send more to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Some may argue that the honour of defeating a troll and knocking it unconscious as a first year more than made up for the destruction of his food and feast. But Ron Weasley had just one question for them to show how wrong they were.

Could he eat that honour?

**Daphne POV**

Potter was up to something and Daphne found that incredibly troubling.

The blond haired Slytherin had seen Potter ducking into the third-floor corridor. The forbidden one. Now, Daphne didn’t find this very abnormal for a normal student, but Potter wasn’t normal. So, she shuddered to think of what he may be doing there. Potter did things that no one thought was normal, even possible.

Who had ever heard of a first year that had defeated a troll? Oh, Weasley had never explained what Potter had done, instead preferring to brag about his own exploits. Specifically, how he had knocked the troll out with its own club. Well, when you could drag his attention away from food that was. A task that seemed to be more difficult than actually taking on a troll if Tracy was to be believed. But Daphne knew Potter had done something. She just knew.

And now he was sneaking into the third-floor corridor and Daphne had to see what he was up to. And who’s to say she couldn’t mess with him a bit? Although, she had to ensure she wasn’t caught. Otherwise, her standing in Slytherin would be damaged.

Quickly darting through the door, she closed it softly, not wanting to alert Potter. She drew her wand and walked down the hall. Knowing Potter, he would likely have set traps everywhere just for the sake of it. Their first Charms lesson on Halloween morning had only heralded their future problems with each other. Now, a single class didn’t go buy where one of them ‘tripped’ on a book just ‘lying’ around, or ‘accidentally’ being doused by their ink pots when a spell went wrong. As if she could get a spell wrong now.

Luckily, Charms was the only class where they were close enough to each other to do this. All their other lessons they sat as far apart from each other as they could. That was the only thing that kept them from killing each other so far.

Well, that and their magic. None of them knew enough spells and Daphne knew even she couldn’t directly control her magic that well. Only for a small push or pull here and there. It required a much greater effort that normal spells she had found. Why, she did not know. But she had settled for a hybrid of intent magic and spell magic.

“Well, well if it isn’t the toothless viper. Following me now?”

Daphne grimaced, turning to glare at Potter. He was standing in an alcove in the wall, hidden by one of the large columns that lined the entire hallway. She had walked past him without even noticing. Something must be wrong with her today.

“More like ensuring that a little kitten doesn’t get lost.” She replied coldly, whirling around and starting to walk down the corridor once more.

“No need to worry about that.” Potter said, falling into line next to her, Daphne had to resist the urge to pull out her wand to hex him, “No kittens in sight here.”

Daphne ignored him, fixing her sight focused on a door in front of them, one that was very different to the ones around it. Not visually of course, it looked like all the others. Dark brown, worn with age and riddled with cobwebs. But magically… it was something else entirely.

Beyond this door, Daphne felt pure magic seeping through, surrounding them in a halo of power. She breathed in deeply, soaking in the majestic feeling as much as she could. It was exhilarating, lifting her spirits and heightening her senses. It washed over her, cleaning her of impurities that she didn’t know even existed.

Unconsciously, Daphne reached forward, wand clutched tightly and cast alohomora. The familiar rush of magic left her, seeping into the door. With an audible groan the door cracked open, a tidal wave of magic hurtling into her.

“Wow.” Potter breathed, echoing her thoughts. Glancing to the side, Daphne saw how his mouth was open and his pupils wide. His skin was flushed, and he was breathing quickly. In other words, he looked exactly like she felt.

As she watched, Potter hesitantly stepped forward, gingerly resting his hand on the door handle. His eyes were vibrant with a need. A need that Daphne shared. To know. TO understand what was creating this aura of pure magic. But Daphne hadn’t been raised to be stupid and careless.

“Potter.” Daphne quietly said, cutting off the boy’s advance, “Are you sure? We don’t know what’s giving off that magic. It could be something dangerous.”

“No risk, no reward, Greengrass.” Potter grinned, before he furrowed his brow, pain appearing in his eyes, “Unless it’s the Nameless King. Then no reward is worth the risk.”

Daphne ignored his last sentence, likely another one of his meaningless references, “Potter. Don’t jump into this like a Gr- “

A sound from the corridor behind them spurred both of them into action. Swiftly, they squeezed through the door. They both stood stock-still, Daphne holding in her breath, her ears straining for the tell-tale sound of footsteps.

There was nothing, only the sound of someone breathing heavily and it was one their side of the door. Daphne shot a look at Potter to quiet, if his loud breathing gave them away she would make him suff- Her eyebrows shot up as she saw Potter wasn’t breathing and was shooting her a similar look she was giving him, but where was the breathing coming from then?

Slowly, unwillingly, Daphne dragged her eyes to the side, fear welling in her stomach. Her blood froze as she saw the waking three headed dog, a Cerberus her mind told her. It was shaking it’s three heads, slobber flying from them as its three pairs of eyes rapidly blinked.

Daphne muffled a squeak when the pairs of eyes settled on her, initially filled with confusion as if wondering what these two little meatbags were doing in its lair. But her horror grew as hunger slowly started to appear in its eyes, a ravenous hunger, seemingly unending as it drew Daphne in.

The Cerberus stood up; its lips pulled up into a toothy grin. It continued staring at Daphne and Potter, excitement filling the air. Until they moved simultaneously.

“Move.” Daphne screamed, jumping to the side, crashing into Potter and sending them both sprawling onto the floor. One of the dog’s heads snapped through where she had just been, missing her by barely a few inches.

Daphne rushed to stand up, only to see another head crashing towards them. She backpedalled, Potter following her, dodging the head. But too late she realised another head was arcing their way. It slammed into Potter, sending him flying against her. They slammed into the door, forcing it open as they hurtled through it.

They hit the wall with a sound thump, Daphne swore she heard a crack. Jumping upwards, she staggered to the side as her head pounded and she grew dizzy. She reached out, grabbing the nearest object to steady herself.

But her mind cleared slightly when slobber hit her, flying towards the door from the open door. The _open_ door! She hurriedly raised her wand, although her aim was still slightly off. Her eyes grew wide with fear as she saw three hunger filled gazes staring at her through the door. She sighed in relief when she Cerberus was too big to fit through the door; its heads were crashing against it repeatedly as it tried to break through.

“Potter.” She gasped, her breath rushed, realising she was holding onto him, “Th- the door. We need to close it!”

Blearily, she managed to catch sigh of him nodding, before she focused her, still dizzy, sight on the doorway. Breathing in, aided by the aura of pure magic, she drew her magic in, coiling it into a tightly held ball of power in her chest. Then she _willed_.

Thrusting her wand forward, she poured her magic forward, sending it out as a maelstrom of ice. Next to her, Potter did the same, sending a torrent of lightning towards. Both elements impacted into the Cerberus at the same time, hitting into it with the force of a speeding train. The Cerberus was forced backwards, and Daphne pulled her wand to the side, sending the door crashing back into place as the tell-tale click of the lock sounded.

She fell backwards, sliding on the wall till she rested on the floor, her body devoid of energy. Her head bobbed forward; her hair plastered to her skin by her sweat. Potter collapsed next to her, his wand rolling from his fingers as he sat there, boneless.

“Potter.” She gasped, wanting to hex him, but too tired too, “I hate you.”

Potter let out a choked laugh, “Don’t worry Greengrass. The feeling’s mutual.

**Well, here you go. The first chapter of Endless Possibilities. This story started out differently and just mutated into what you see before you. I only published this because I felt like it, so yeah I hoped you enjoyed the weirdness of my mind.**

**Review.**

**Tell me who was your favourite character, POV. What your favourite moment was. I appreciate the feedback, and this will help me plan what to write in the next chapter.**

**Do you guys prefer one long chapter like this, or two smaller ones?**

**Be aware, the update schedule for this will be very sporadic as I am just writing this when I feel like it, and usually just a one-time hours long session.**

**Ciao.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Whew. 2 nd Chapter finished. Hope you enjoy the ramblings of my mind. Also, no part of this is supposed to be a political current and JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.**

**Professor McGonagall POV**

“Detention!” McGonagall shouted, towering over the two third year Slytherins, looking down upon them with a sharp eye, “Never again shall I see this happen. Do you understand?”

One of Slytherin’s opened his mouth as if to speak, but back hesitated as he seemed to rethink his intentions, emotions warring in his gaze. He slammed his mouth closed, an expression of fear appearing on his face as he meekly nodded.

All would have been perfect if McGonagall’s, finely – _finely_ ­– honed senses picked up that he wasn’t afraid of her. He was afraid of something else.

McGonagall scowled as she stepped forward, eyes locked on the student, growling, “Is there anything you would like to tell me?”

The third year seemed to realise he had been caught out, as he backed away slightly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nervously swallowed.

“No?” His answer came slowly, questioning.

“Why,” McGonagall frowned, “Do I believe your lying?”

The effect was immediate. The Slytherin’s defence broke down immediately under her gaze. Hesitation gone, he started rambling, nervously wringing his hands as he withered slightly.

“It was Professor Snape! He was the one who told us not to listen to you.” He shivered slightly at the memory, his companion mirroring him, “He told us that if we showed any fear in front of you and damage the reputation of Slytherin, he would – he would send us back to our parents by owl. Piece… by piece.”

McGonagall scowled, of course it was the greasy bat. His iron grip over his Slytherins ensured that they were almost always out of reach. And now that she learnt he actively told them not to fear her. He would pay. To make it even worse, he dared to make them fear him more than her.

War had been declared.

“Go!” She barked, dismissing the third years with a curt wave of her hand, “Ensure that you are on time for your detention and do not disturb the Quidditch game.”

The two children nodded rapidly, before speeding away as quickly as they could. They had learned their lesson. She was to be feared, not Snape.

Still glowering, she stalked towards the teacher’s stands. The game would be starting soon, meaning she would need to ensure Jordan did nothing wrong. But more importantly, Snape would be there soon.

Climbing up the stairs, her expression turned even more sour as she saw Jordan fiddling with his microphone, casting spells as he manipulated its enchantments. Marching forward, she loomed over him, causing the dreadlocked boy to turn slowly, a nervous grin on his face.

“Mr Jordan, I believe that will no longer be necessary.” McGonagall said imperiously, waving her wand as she got rid of his additions, “Now, I expect the game to begin soon and I want no problems. Do you understand?”

Jordan nodded silently, before turning back to the field. McGonagall sat next to him, casting her eyes over the field. It was a cloudy day, which wasn’t all that surprising. The stands were filled to the brim, Gryffindor and Slytherin sitting as far away from each other as possible. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaws were between them, some carrying a Gryffindor banner, other’s Slytherin ones. Most had nothing.

The teachers were out in force today. Filius was sitting just behind her, he could hear him squeakily talking to Pomona. Septima and Aurora were conversing between themselves, intermittently joined by Trelawney. Hagrid sat to the side, his voice bubbling with excitement as he regaled Charity with tales of his newest pet, Quirinus sitting in front of them. McGonagall shuddered to hear more of them, the Cerberus, who she refused to call Fluffy, was bad enough already. However, she noticed only one thing. Excluding Albus, only one Professor wasn’t here.

Snape.

Rage filled McGonagall’s mind at the thought of that damned potions professor. She had always known he had the upper hand when it came to Slytherins, but to threaten them to not be afraid of her. That she could not accept.

But her rage was dampened when she noticed Professor Hooch signalling to Jordan to start the game, which he did excitedly.

**“Witches and Wizards! Welcome to the first Inter-House Quidditch game of the year, between the Golden Gryffindors and the Slimy Slytherins!”**

Almost lazily, McGonagall admonished the boy, who’s love for quidditch seemed to overpower his fear for her, as he only nodded hastily and continued. She would have to fix that.

**“Now, let’s welcome the teams! On the side of the Slippery Snakes we have…”**

McGonagall drowned out Jordan’s voice after reprimanding him once again, instead sinking deep in her thoughts. But how could she fix it. While Albus’s… whimsical ways ensured he was never fully aware of her actions, he would be if she started scaring them more.

**“…Longbottom and Potter! The two youngest players on the field today, with Potter being the youngest seeker in a century! Let’s see if they are up to the task to carry the Glorious Griffins!”**

McGonagall cast her gaze to the two young wizards mentioned. They had glided over to join their teammates as they waited for the gaze to start. Under her sharp eyes, she looked for any sign of fear. But all she saw was a nervous excitement.

**“The captains have shaken hand! The quaffle is about to be released… and off we go!”**

Instantly, the teams broke apart, splitting up into their various roles as Wood and Bletchley raced back towards their respective hoops. Spinnet had grabbed the ball as soon as it released, passing it to Longbottom.

She hadn’t been sure about allowing Longbottom to play when Bell fell sick. Him and Potter to be fair. If they were kille- disappeared, then she would be under investigation and that would ruin her image. Snape would almost assuredly use the chance to ruin her reputation, ensuring that the total fear most of the student body held towards her disappeared.

**“Another score by Gryffindor! 40-30 to the Gallant Gryffindors.”**

After all, who would be afraid of a teacher that could do nothing to you, because one bad choice meant she could get kicked off the teaching staff. However, she had to take the risk. Potter flew just like his father, while Longbottom had supposedly been raised on the broom. And if they won, she could just imagine the sour look on Snape’s face when she received the cup.

“Good afternoon Severus.” Pomona’s voice sounded from behind her, “Come to watch your snakes play?”

McGonagall’s blood ran hot as she heard his answering grunt. He was here. She better goes give him a piece of her mind. But she clenched her chair tightly as she forced herself to continue sitting. She would not bow down to his petty tricks. She would not get into an argument with him in front of all these people.

 **“The seekers seem to be searching everywhere now as the game continues.”** Jordan said excitedly, his dreadlocks flying around as his head whirled around, trying to look at everything at once, **“Who will get it?”**

McGonagall was now clenching her teeth; her fingers were turning white as white-hot anger grew in her body. She was desperately flitting her eyes about, trying to catch sight of something that would distract her. However, her gaze stilled as she noticed two students sitting across from her. Two she had just seen, the Slytherins.

Her anger boiled over, roaring in her ears as she stood up, shocking Jordan and Filius as they stared at her incomprehensibly. Stalking towards Snape, she ignored the sudden gasps that was ringing through the stadium as her eyes locked onto Snape’s own, black ones.

“Minerva.” Snape greeted as she came to stand in front of him, “Do you need something?”

“Severus.” She answered with a thin smile, “A few students came to me just before the game to talk about some instructions you had given them.”

Snape’s smirk never wavered as he absorbed the information, but McGonagall caught the slight shift in his position that belied his shock. He spoke once again, drawling, “And which students might this be?”

“Min- Minerva.” Quirinus stuttered from in front of her, “You’re blo- blocking my vi- view of th- the game.”

McGonagall ignored him, narrowing her eyes as she stared straight intensely at the potion master, keeping her occlumency shields high, “I seemed to have forgotten their names. However, that is not important here. I believe that you need to… reconsider your instructions to them.”

Snape raised a single eyebrow, as the other teachers around them looked at them with confused gazes, “I believe that my instructions to my pupils fall under my right as Slytherin Housemaster.”

“As does the right to review those instructions fall under my role as Deputy Headmistress.”

“Min-Minerva.”

She hushed the Defence professor mid-speech, focused on Snape as he replied, his black eyes glinting with an evil light, “Very well, however, first I must call the Governors attention to the incident three years ago. I had only recently become aware of the true nature of it.”

McGonagall stilled, her heart almost stopping at his words. How did he know about that? But she recovered quickly, her slight flinch occurring for only a split second.

But Snape had caught it, if his victorious smirk was any sign. Now that he knew about that, she couldn’t do much about his instructions.

“Minerva!” Quirinus loudly said, breaking their stand-off, “You’re in my view.”

McGonagall blinked quietly, slightly shocked by the anger in the stuttering, who had just spoken clearly, man’s voice. She had never seen him so irritated before, was quidditch truly that important to him. She had never noticed it before.

“Excuse me Quirinus.” She tried to smile apologetically, “I’ll just go sit down again.”

Walking back to her seat, she sent one last glare to that irritating potions master. He may have won this one, however as she looked forward and saw Potter catching the snitch, she smiled.

She would win the war.

**Neville POV**

Neville Longbottom was not an idiot.

Oh no. You could call him slightly ignorant, unaware, naïve. But you could not call the Boy-Who-Lived an idiot.

In fact, if you asked him, he was pretty intelligent. He had picked up all the knowledge from the tutors, that his father had forced onto him, easily and quickly. His pronunciation was good, his wand movements better, but his understanding the best.

And that was why, on Christmas morning, with snowflakes lazily drifting down and a warm fire crackling in the fireplace, he instantly knew that trouble was afoot the moment he saw Harry and the Weasley twins together.

He narrowed his eyes, thumbing his wand. If they were planning something, it would be good to be on guard. Now, Harry had never tried to prank him before, or anyone for that matter. But even Neville had to admit something was wrong with him.

Harry was strange and there was nothing else about it. Just the other day, Neville had found him in the library, accosting Mrs Pince with requests for any books about witchers. Neville didn’t even know what that was.

Or the time that Neville had found over a dozen books about dragons on Harry’s trunk. And each one had a bookmark placed on the same dragon. The Scandinavian Shoutdrake. Which Neville once again didn’t know that it even existed?

Then, there came Harry’s excellence in magic. He was good, very good. Neville felt completely outclassed whenever he saw him in class, which should be impossible, or else he had wasted his childhood. But he quickly tried to force that emotion away every time, aware that at his core Harry wasn’t such a bad guy. Whenever they talked, and Harry was being normal, he was pretty funny.

But Neville was still very wary of him.

So, Neville was understandably nervous when he saw Harry whispering with the Weasley twins, who were the only Weasleys who had stayed behind. He was waving his hands around bombastically as the identical twins nodded, listening intently.

But Neville decided to ignore them in favour of a much better option. Presents. There was a large Christmas tree next to the fireplace, with numerous stacks of presents under it. Neville smiled happily as he went to his own pile. Maybe his father had bought him that Screeching Quaffle he had asked for. It would be sure to shock the other chasers when they saw, or more likely, heard it.

Ripping open his presents, he was unsurprised to see the customary chocolates, some probably filled with love potions, cards, flowers, the annual pet bat and the endless amount of clothes from all of his well-wishers. Being the Boy Who Lived certainly had its perks and Neville had decided to that ignoring all the praise would get him nothing. So here he was, surrounded by presents from people he didn’t know.

Then he finally got to the good gifts, from his friends and family, but as he opened the first one, his happiness was muted slightly. A defence book. Opening a few others, his smile fell slightly more as more about spells to protect himself and others like ‘Every Spell A Wizard Needs to Know’ or ’50 Non-Violent Ways to Incapacitate Someone’ appeared.

Neville put the books aside, his heart sinking slightly as he desperately tried to forget about them for now. All his life he had been touted as one of the greatest wizards of all time, he was the Defeater of Voldemort. The Boy-Who-Lived. He was their Protector Against the Dark.

So, each year he received books like this, ways to protect himself, ways to fight. Almost all of his presents were to make himself a better warrior, to make him the future Leader of the Light. His grandmother had hired tutors, to teach him to fight, to survive. To make him the best wizard.

But that wasn’t what he wanted.

He hoped every year that it would change, that they would realise that he was just a normal boy who liked Herbology. He wanted to have a more peaceful life. He wanted to fulfil his dream. The one not even his father knew about.

Next to him, the ripping of more paper could be heard as Harry dug into his pile with gusto. It was much smaller than Neville’s, only having four presents. But Harry seemed not to care. Neville watched silently as Harry opened his present from Hermione, letting out a whoop of excitement as he grabbed at the flying snitch.

Neville dragged his gaze away, back to his own pile. There was only one more present left. His father’s. Neville always looked forward the most to his father’s present. He was the only one who understood that Neville wanted to be normal, to be a simple student. He supported Neville’s dream. The bracelet on his arm being the best gift Neville had ever gotten.

Ripping the paper off, he grinned at the sight of the quaffle lying before him. His father had gotten it! Neville grabbed it, throwing it up into the air, his grin widening into a smile as it screeched on its way down.

“What you got there?”

Fumbling the quaffle slightly, Neville turned embarrassedly to the curious emerald-eyed boy watching him curiously.

“A Screeching Quaffle.” Neville replied, throwing it to his dormmate, “It has some special functions.”

“Besides screeching?” Harry replied grinning as he tossed it up into the air.

“Much more.” Neville replied, anticipation welling up inside him, “ _Exolvo._ ”

Instantly, the quaffle obeyed his command, spraying a green goo all over Harry, who fell back, surprised. Neville had to hold onto the chair he was sitting off tightly, else he might fall off it from his convulsive laughter. But through his bleary eyes, he saw that Harry had recovered quickly.

“Cool!” His goo-covered dormmate crowed, anxiously inspecting the ball, ignoring the green goo covering him, “Who gave this to you?”

“My- father.” Neville gasped, frantically trying to breathe as he sat up, trying to calm his shaking body.

“That’s great.” Harry said, giving the quaffle back to Neville, “What’s the other thing he got you?”

“What other thing…” Neville’s voice drowned out as he followed Harry’s pointing finger. His eyes almost bulged as he saw a thin piece of paper resting among the ripped packaging. A thin piece of paper that he recognised.

Crouching down, he gingerly picked it up with his trembling fingers. Bringing it up to the light, it revealed a group of seventh year students all standing in front of the lake. They were celebrating, their graduation his father had once told him. His father was there, smile wide on his face, eager for what the future would bring.

But it was the girl next to him that Neville focused on. She had shoulder length hair that waved with her as she wrapped her arms around his father, pressing a kiss onto his cheek. She looked happy, content… awake.

His mother.

Neville bit back a sob as he tenderly ran a finger across his mother’s face. Almost willing it to feel warm and alive. To give him a semblance of feeling her comforting warmth and love. To be different from the thin, cold woman sleeping on a bed in St. Mungo’s.

Slowly, he turned around the picture, feeling a card there. On it, in a simple elegant scrawl stood a simple line.

_For Her._

He crashed weakly onto the sofa, staring at those words unblinkingly. For her. The words his father said every October 31st, holding Neville’s mother’s wand in his hands as he revelled in his memories of her.

Of which Neville had none.

He was ripped away from his thoughts by the sound of a loud thump as something fell onto the floor. Looking up, Neville saw that Harry, with a big box of Every Flavour Beans at his feet, staring intently at a note in his hand as he held a silvery cloak in the other.

“What’s wrong?” Neville croaked, almost grimacing at how terrible his voice sounded, so filled with sadness.

Harry took his time to respond, but once he did it rang through the air, his voice emanating a clear sense of wistfulness.

“It was my dad’s.”

Neville bowed his head at the words, absorbing them silently. He had forgotten that Harry’s parents had both been killed. On the same night as his mother. For the same cause.

Anger roared loudly in his ears. Anger at the world. Anger at his mother not being healed. But most of his anger was aimed at one thing.

Voldemort. Voldemort and his followers who fought for the dark. Who killed hundreds to fulfil their cause.

Determination filled him as he stood up sharply, walking past the silent bespectacled boy longingly staring at the cloak in his hands. He looked out of the window, at the snow-covered mountains and the great forest beneath them.

Neville would become the greatest wizard of all time. He would practice, and fight. He would uncover forgotten magic. All for one thing.

For them.

**Hermione POV**

Hermione excitedly sat on the edge of her seat. It was time for her return to Hogwarts!

The Christmas Holidays had been great. Her parents had showered her after being apart for 3 months and to make it even better, she had gotten gifts! No not just any gifts. Gifts from a person she could possibly call a friend!

Hermione had been very confused when she had first seen them under the tree. Her parents’ gift had been there, a new book, which she had already read twice by the end of the holiday. Then there had been the second from her grandparents. A nice pen, perfect for writing long essays.

But the other presents. From whom could they be? Well, Hermione had been delighted to find out that both had been from Harry. He had sent her a present! One had been a book about transfiguration she had remembered mentioning to him and the other… she still truly didn’t know what it was.

It was a board game called Dungeons & Dragons. Hermione had never heard of it before, but on it, Harry had written a… confusing phrase.

_Wisdom is the most important thing a wizard can have. Change my mind._

Hermione had thought long and hard about what Harry had meant through this, until, after a week she had finally figured it out.

Harry had enchanted the box! It wasn’t just a normal board game, but he had done something to it and expected Hermione to be able to figure it out. And she had immediately jumped to figuring it out, she didn’t want to lose the respect and trust of the only person who might be her friend.

So, as soon as she had realised this, she had started on her journey to figure it out. She had pored over her books, cast the only diagnostic spell she knew at it as soon as she steeped on the Express, multiple times. But she still had not succeeded.

The jolting of the carriage broke her concentration, as it came to stop. Excitedly, she climbed out, ready to get back to Hogwarts. But she immediately shrank back at the sight of the huge crowd of students walking towards Hogwarts. She had forgotten how many students there were and her short, sweet stint at home had made her unused to this.

She took a deep breath, summoning her courage as she timidly joined the outskirts of the crowd, finding herself next to two other first year girls. Their robes identified them as Slytherin, one had short brown hair. But the other, she had long, blond hair that flowed down over her shoulders.

Hermione recalled her to be Daphne Greengrass. She was Harry’s partner in charms and together they seemed to always be the first to learn a spell. That was all she knew about her. Harry barely ever mentioned her and the one time he did, he oddly made sure he wasn’t close to a chair.

“…music?” Greengrass’s incredulous voice drifted over to her, “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Her friend replied, “Although I still don’t understand what this has to do with the Noctem de Virtute.”

“Just something I had in mind. Do you think my mother would mind if I bought one for Astoria?”

Greengrass’s friend snorted, Hermione’s quick glance catching the barely controlled laughter on her face, “A Cerberus? Definitely.”

Hermione hid a gasp at their conversation. Greengrass wanted to buy a Cerberus for her sister? More importantly, they actually existed?”

“Well, what are you going to get for the Noctem then?”

“I’ll think of something later.”

“Tracy, you know that until we’re fourteen it might be the most important night of our lives.”

“I know. I know. I’ll think of something.”

“Good.”

Hermione walked away slightly, aware that she was entering dangerous territory here. She had been eavesdropping for too long. Greengrass and the other girl, who had been identified as Tracy Davis, would have noticed her before long. Best not to make that mistake again. The last time she had been caught…

She dragged her thoughts away from the topic, unwilling to think about her last few years at school. Her life had improved since then. She was a witch, capable of bending reality to her will with the simple muttering of a word or two. And she had a friend now.

“Hermione!”

Hermione snapped her head to face the origin of the voice, a small grin, forming. They had now entered the Great Hall and there, sitting up straight and waving at her with a large smile on his face, with his hair messily laying on his head, sat Harry.

She quickened her step, taking care not to bump into anyone, sliding into a seat opposite Harry, facing the other tables from her side of the hall.

“…How was your holiday?” Hermione asked nervously, wringing her hands underneath the table. Had she asked to quickly? Was it socially acceptable to do this? Hermione wanted to smash her face against the table in embarrassment.

“It was great.” Harry responded, letting Hermione breathe out a soft sigh of relief, “Thanks for your present. I love the beans.”

Hermione smiled happily. She had thought long and hard about the present she wanted to give to Harry. She had initially wanted to give him a book, but after remembering Nancy Smith’s reaction in year 5, she had decided not to. In the end she had settled on Bertie Blotts Every Flavour Beans after hearing it was a simple and normal Christmas gift that everyone liked.

“That’s great.” Hermione gushed, before wincing as she realised Harry would probably be sad if she didn’t talk about his present immediately, “Your present was great too.”

Harry smiled, “Good. Do you agree with what I wrote on it?”

“Yes.” Hermione quickly replied, “Wisdom definitely is. I’ve spent days thinking on it. I bought it with me.”

“Then when you want to, you should come talk to me about it. If you’ve figured everything out, we can even organise something.”

“I’ll figure it out.” Hermione promised, resolve filling her, she would figure it out. No question about could. She wouldn’t disappoint Harry.

Harry smiled at her supportively. But before anyone of them could speak, they were cut off by the food that suddenly appeared in front of them. They had missed the Headmaster’s speech. Harry and everyone else around her immediately dug into their food.

Ron Weasley was to her left, food piling up on his plate almost continuously, but disappearing just as fast. Dean Thomas was opposite him, next to Harry, talking to Seamus Finnigan, regaling him about the pub fight he had witnessed on his holiday in Ireland.

“So, Harry.” Lavender started, next to Hermione, “Anything interesting happen in the castle while we were gone?”

“Except for the Weasley Twins spraying all the teachers except McGonagall red and white. Not much. I spent most of my time in the library or flying outside, might have seen as Skeletal Horse. Just proves that Alduin existed.”

With a practiced ease, everyone listening brushed off Harry’s strange comments, sharing a laugh at the Weasley twins’ antics, which Hermione joined quietly, before immediately stopping, was her voice too loud?

“Anything Harry forgot to tell us, Neville?” Lavender probed the silent boy sitting next to Harry. His eyes had dark circles around them, but as Hermione’s eyes met his for a short moment, she was slightly taken aback by the fiery determination in them.

“Nothing much.” Neville said, before falling silent once again.

“So, a normal Christmas here then.” Lavender smiled, before turning to face Hermione, who was shocked by the sudden attention.

“What about you Hermione?”

“Christmas was fine.” Hermione rushed quickly, the words coming out almost unintelligible. She forced herself to slow down, “Enjoyed the time with my family.”

Fretfully, she watched as Lavender blinked slightly, before nodding and turning around to talk to Parvati.

Hermione wanted to cry at her reaction. Why had she done that. Now, she had made herself look even more different and weird to Lavender and the rest of her housemates.

All around her, everyone was content. Conversations was flowing easily as stories about the holidays was shared. Lavender and Parvati were talking quietly, probably about her, Hermione wallowed. Forcing herself to shoot a quick glance at Harry, she saw that he, Seamus and Dean were in an animated discussion about the effectiveness of using Wingardium Leviosa to create a flying city.

However, Hermione took no part in it. If she joined them, she felt like she would be interrupting. No, instead she would mirror the red-haired boy shoving food into his mouth. Reaching out quickly, she grabbed random bits of food. She would look picky if she took long to choose.

Across from her, Harry flashed a crazed smile towards her, making Hermione grin back hesitantly. She stabbed her fork into her plate, bringing the food up to her mouth. Biting into it, she swallowed quickly as she opened her mouth to start a conversation with Harry.

Or she would have if she hadn’t realised what she was eating.

Coughing, Hermione forced herself not to throw up, instead she focused on swallowing it. As soon as she did, she leaned forward, her mouth burning with the horrible taste. Frantically, she grabbed the closest glass of pumpkin juice, downing it.

“Eh… Hermione.” Lavender hesitantly said, “That’s mine.”

Hermione froze mid-gulp, panic flashing through her, before she swallowed as softly as she could, though it seemed to resonate over the hall. She handed it back tentatively, flashing an apologetic smile. Lavender waved it off, smiling back, before turning to face Parvati again.

Hermione shrunk down, her cheeks burning red, wishing she could disappear, but most importantly glaring at the food on her plate.

She wanted Brussel Sprouts to disappear.

**Hagrid POV**

Hagrid loved the forbidden forest. He loved all the interesting and peaceful animals that lived there. In there, it must be a utopia. It must be a place of happiness and joy, where all creatures, big and small, lived in harmony.

Aragog lived there. Bane and his herd called the forest home. Tubby was there as well. All of Hagrid’s favourite creatures, and his best friends were there. Which was why, Hagrid enjoyed taking the detentions in the Forbidden Forest.

For him it was the perfect time to teach the students about the wonders of the forest and its many magical creatures. It was one thing that he found very upsetting with the wizard schooling system. They taught that many magical creatures were dangerous-like Aragog! How could anyone find such a peaceful friend of his dangerous?

Aragog, like Fluffy and Tubby, were simply misunderstood.

So, Hagrid took it upon himself to show the students how these ‘beasts’ actually are, how peaceful and helpful they were. Which bought them to the present situation.

 _“Hagrid.”_ Aragog’s heavy, raspy voice slithered from the shadows as his many eyes slinked into the light, the only part of him that Hagrid could see, _“Have you bought me food?”_

Hagrid snorted. Just like Aragog to joke like that. Wagging his finger, he dragged the two frozen stiff students he was with forward, “Now, don’t scare them like that Ara. This is Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter. I wanted them to meet you.”

“…Sir?” Neville’s questioning voice spoke softly, “Is it too late to switch with the Weasleys?”

Hagrid grinned at his words. The Weasley twins were some of his favourite students and he made sure to bring them to meet a new creature every time they were with him. However, this time, they had, instead, offered to let Harry and Neville go alone, choosing to stay with McGonagall instead.

Hagrid’s heart warmed at the thought. He knew that they only wanted Harry and Neville to have some personal tutoring and likely thought that they would interfere in his teachings. The next time they had detention he would bring them to meet two creatures as a reward instead of one.

And that detention would come soon. He was sure. This was their second in a week and from what Hagrid had gathered, this one had involved fireworks, an exploding ink quell – coupled with a hair removal potion – and a large amount of firewhiskey. And, the two first years with Hagrid tonight. They had protested their punishment greatly, sticking to their argument of ‘Right place, completely wrong time’ quite closely.

“No ne’d to worry Neville.” Hagrid said boisterously, forcing the two even further forwards, closer to Aragog, “Ara won’t hurt you. He’s a little intimidating, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

With perfect timing, Aragog hissed in agreement, before Hagrid swelled in happiness as he watched one of Aragog’s children jump from the treetops, landing on Neville’s shoulders to play with him.

However, his happiness dulled slightly at the sharp shriek the boy let out, frantically waving off the spider – which Hagrid thought was incredibly rude. But he knew he couldn’t blame it on Neville. It was all due to the unfair education system, what else could it be?

 _“Hagrid.”_ Aragog started, _“I found one of the unicorns you were looking for. Still alive”_

Hagrid frowned at the news. Another one? This was the fourth this year, not sounding like much, but disastrous to the forest’s unicorn population. He would need to find the source of this soon, or else the herd might move to another forest. But maybe he had time to save this one.

“Where is it?” He asked, before waving to the boys, “Come ‘ere.”

However, before the two first years could move, Aragog cut in quickly.

_“Why not let them stay with us? I’m sure my children would love to meat them. To fl- play with them.”_

Hagrid shook his head, Aragog’s speech was acting up again, probably because the only person he spoke to was Hagrid, none of his children had learned how to speak…

Hagrid excitedly looked at the two first years, a brilliant idea flashing through his mind.

“Boys.” He started, drawing their attention, “I think what Aragog’s saying is a brilliant idea. Why don’t you go and play with his childr’n and try to teach them ‘ow to speak, eh?”

Neville’s face seemed to pale even more; he sorta looked like that vampire over in Bristol, he mused. However, Hagrid understood his fear. He must be afraid that he would fail to fulfil Hagrid’s request and it scared the death out of him. Neville truly was a helpful person, a good Boy-Who-Lived. Which was why he was perfect for the job.

Neville opened his mouth to speak, likely to express his fear of failure, before he was cut off by Harry who strode forward. His face the total opposite of Neville’s. Instead of fear-filled eyes and pale skin, Harry’s seemed to be filled with life. Filled with confidence.

“We accept your quest.” He announced formally, filling Hagrid up with joy at the excitement glowing in his voice. Here was a good student. One that seemed to share Hagrid’s love for the cute and harmless creatures like Aragog.

“Good.” Hagrid nodded, ruffling Harry’s hair with his gigantic hand, “Then I’ll see ye later.”

Turning to Aragog, he was greeted with one of the medium sized – though still tall – spiders waiting for him. Sending another quick smile to Aragog and the first years, he followed the spider into the undergrowth.

Soon, they arrived at the fallen unicorn. It was lying next to a pool of water, that was filled with a pearly golden sheen. A very familiar sheen. Unicorn blood. Hagrid scowled as he saw the still bleeding wound on the unicorn’s neck.

“Hagrid.”

From the side, a very familiar voice greeted him. Turning Hagrid managed a quick smile towards the powerful Centaur standing there.

“Bane.”

“I see you found another one.”

“Ye.” Hagrid grimaced, kneeling next to the fallen unicorn, “Aragog showed me.”

“Ah, yes.” Bane’s voice came from the side, filled with distaste, “The spider.”

“Still angry at him?” Hagrid questioned, trying to hide his flinch at the oozing black liquid that flowed out of the Unicorn’s mouth as it struggled to breathe.

“He refuses to join the council.”

“ave you tried talking to him?”

“He cannot see the truth.” Bane said, coming to stand next to Hagrid, “He does not understand the truth. He still believes that Arachnomantula’s are the greatest species in existence. He refused to cooperate in creating the Republic.”

“What ‘bout the Mermen.”

“They have finally accepted the mantra and started sharing their resources. They have inscribed it into their village stone.”

“Good.” Hagrid grunted, as he crumbled some herbs he grabbed from his pocket, pushing it into the Unicorn’s wound, causing it to whinny in pain, before slowly, its eyes closed, and its harsh breathing evened out.

“It wasn’t the Fae.” Bane grunted as he pawed the ground angrily, “Ystral has forbidden anyone from entering the forest since the first attack and my scouts have found no tracks of anyone that snuck in.”

“Then ‘ho could it be?” The half-giant questioned, as he stood up, dusting his coat off slightly.

“The Republic has been unable to find anything.” Bane replied as one of the centaurs from his herd entered the clearing, almost invisible under the darkness of the trees. Hagrid did not recognise him.

“And I haven’t seen anything.” Hagrid scowled. To hurt a unicorn. It was one of the worst things that could be done. Luckily, none of the unicorns had died so far, their innate magic able to keep them alive long enough for someone to call Hagrid or the Republic.

But, shaking his head, he decided that he could think of it later. For now, he had to go back to the two little first years. It was time to get them back to Hogwarts, or else McGonagall would have his hide. The powerful half-giant trembled slightly at the idea of being under the Deputy Headmistress’s gaze and wrath. It was not an experience that many survived. At least not whole.

Walking back to the clearing, he noticed a clutch of small spiders lying on the floor, their legs seemingly broken as they struggled to stand. Hagrid frowned in worry. Were the spiders being attacked as well? He knew they would be fine, Arachnomantula’s had strong healing talents. But even they couldn’t heal from death.

His worry grew only larger as he approached the clearing. The trees had burn marks on them, Hagrid’s hairs were rising up slightly, the air seemed to almost crackle with intensity. Even more spiders laid on the ground, some evidently burned, other’s with broken legs. How had he missed this the first time?

Hagrid quickly realised the answer. It was the unicorn. In his worry to find the unicorn and save it, he had missed all of this destruction and the numerous injuries these spiders had. Hagrid only had himself to blame. But everything should be fine if Aragog had not mentioned anything.

Entering the clearing, Hagrid was almost blinded by a flash of sharp, bright, light from the opposite end of the clearing. Blinking the black spots away, he looked to the source of the flash. But his mind froze when he saw the sight of Neville Longbottom flailing around, covered in small spiders, with larger spiders charging at him.

Were they? Were they?

Playing?

Hagrid broke out into a grin at the sight before him. How wonderful. He knew that leaving the first years here would turn out well. It wasn’t language, but it may be even better. He felt immensely proud that he had shown another person how gentle and fun-loving the Acromantula are.

His master plan had a great start. Now, he had help in convincing other’s that the education system was inadequate and biased. This was the start of a revolution; they now had much work to do.

Regrettably, that meant getting Neville back to school and breaking up this joyous occasion.

“Let’s go, Nev’lle.” He grunted, beaming at the pale, sweating boy. He must have truly played with Aragog’s kin, tried his hardest to fit in. It was truly admirable.

Dragging the trembling boy away – he must be filled with energy – he spied Harry behind one of the trees, stuffing something into a backpack that Hagrid hadn’t even noticed he had. Briefly, he thought he spied a hairy leg in the pack, before it was pushed in, but he waved the though away. He had probably imagined it.

“Back to ‘ogwarts.” Hagrid said, settling a giant hand on the first year’s shoulder, who nodded quickly as he shouldered his bag.

Hagrid turned to Aragog, who was watching him from his customary tree, “See ya later Ara.”

 _“Goodbye Hagrid.”_ Aragog hissed, his many eyes blinking simultaneously, _“Please bring back the children again. My brood would love to… see them again. They are very lonely.”_

Hagrid smiled sympathetically, “Sure. And as soon as Fluffy is done guarding the Philosopher’s stone, I’ll bring him to see you as well.”

Clapping his giant hands, Hagrid excitedly turned to the two first years, “Let’s go. We have a lot to do.”

Then, with an exuberant skip in his step, he led them out of the clearing. All the while shouting one thing to the treetops.

“To the revolution!”

**Daphne POV**

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Slowly, she opened her eyes, willing the wood-panelled roof of her bed to appear before her. For the green curtains that shrouded her in a comfortable darkness to appear.

It didn’t.

Once again, the sight of three sleeping, drooling, gigantic, drooling, menacing and drooling heads filled her vision. And now, instead of her being close to the door, where she could escape, she stood next to one of its monstrous paws.

Her fear grew even larger at the fact that her life now lay in the hands of someone who shouldn’t even be close to her.

Neville Longbottom.

Somehow, her life – Daphne Greengrass’s life - had ended up in the Boy-Who-Lived’s hands. Even now it made very little sense to Daphne. But unfortunately, she knew why.

Potter.

Once again it was Potter.

Daphne had started seeing a pattern here. Her first charms class, she gets paired with Potter, somehow accessing a branch of magic that she had never heard of before. Magic based on intent alone, and not on words and wand motions.

Then came her first meeting with the giant, drooling dog of death. Once again, Potter’s fault. Why had he looked so suspicious when walking down the hallway. Of course she would investigate.

But now, came this and she winced at the memory of how she was bought into this.

**Flashback Start**

“Get back here Potter!” She screamed as she ran after the fleeing boy, her blonde hair streaming behind her as she pushed herself to go faster. But she quickly stopped herself, aware that it was currently after midnight and if they were caught…

Her mother would hear of it.

Daphne’s shiver almost caused her to misstep, making her stumble slightly as she regained her balance, almost tipping over as she continued running. But her determination drove her. Potter had done it now. He had dared to do it.

He had ruined her hair.

Even now, she wanted to sob at the sight of her beautiful blonde hair, the envy of all, the pride of her life, matted black with crushed berries.

Potter would pay for this. Him and the Weasley Twins. Oh, just because she chased after Potter, didn’t mean she had forgotten about their transgressions against mankind. Against her. No. She was a Greengrass. Even more, she was Daphne Greengrass.

 _They_ would pay.

And with that thought flying through her mind, Daphne launched herself forward, magic blasting out from her wand and propelling herself forward. Flying through the crisp air, past the very familiar columns, engraved elegantly with spirals and twists.

She slammed into the accused, sending him flying straight into a door, that had been opened just a crack. Also, a very familiar door. One that Daphne had engrained in her mind to never walk close to again. One that made her face pale.

Together, they flew through the door, causing it to slam against the wall. She landed on top of Potter, twisted together in some weird knot that looked like a Lovegood had designed it. She struggled to free herself, pushing Potter away as quickly as she could and jumping to her feet.

Only to be met with nine large, luminous orbs staring straight at her.

The Cerberus’s eyes were blinking, an emotion that Daphne often saw in her peers present in them. Confusion. Well, she had to admit. It probably wasn’t every day that two children flew into its home, offering it a quick snack.

But slowly the confusion cleared away, the hunger that replaced it causing Daphne to gulp slightly. The Cerberus rose to its full height. Exuding overwhelming power and majesty. It’s mouths opening to reveal glistening fangs. It was the King here. The King of the Bea-

Suddenly, from behind her, a clear note of music sounded, ringing in the air and echoing off the walls. It was hoarse and lonely, carrying with it a sense of desolation and despair. It seemed to strike at Daphne’s soul, causing her and the Cerberus to blink. The beast’s eyes shot to focus on a point next to her.

Slowly, she turned around slightly, making sure to keep the Cerberus in her sights. But as soon as she saw where the music came from, all thought of her impending death disappeared and were replaced with one simple raw thought.

What?

There, standing just in front of the open doorway, stood Neville Longbottom. And he was playing the violin. He seemed so at ease with the instrument, his fingers deftly flying across the strings, as he bought his bow to the strings with a simple, but elegant movement.

He was good. Very good.

Yet, she whirled around, wand flying to her hand as she aimed it at the Cerberus, as its heads came flying down, teeth bared as it approached with an unlicensed attempt to kill.

However, she paused as it hit the floor instead of eating her, its large, hungry eyes closing and its tongues lying outside its mouths.

It was asleep.

**Flashback End**

So, once again mourning her ruined hair, she sunk to her haunches next to one of its paws, ever aware of the warm breath washing over her. On the other side, Potter grabbed onto the paw as well.

This idea was utterly stupid. So of course, the two Gryffindorks had come up with it.

She had noticed it first. A large, ornate harp standing in the shadows to the side. Potter had noticed her surprise and had abandoned inspecting the Cerberus’s teeth to follow her gaze. Longbottom then did the same.

When they had seen it. Daphne and Potter instantly exchanged looks. This had not been here last time. And remembering the opened door, Daphne’s heart had once again sunk. They weren’t the only ones who had been there recently.

Then, outside the room, they had flung into a quick, hushed debate. Daphne had been on the side that the Professors should be told first, that they were the best equipped to handle this. But, the two idiots who acted like wizards, decided that they would go on without her if she called them.

So, here she was. Picking up a gigantic monster’s paw, so they could enter the trapdoor underneath it. Well… She would be lying if she said she wasn’t curious to see what was there.

No, Daphne. You are here to ensure that the other two don’t kill themselves by jumping in front of a spell or a deadly creature. That is the only reason why…

“Greengrass.” Potter hissed from across her, straining as he carried the paw, “Help me.”

Quickly, Daphne helped pull the paw away, and gently drop it on the floor, ignoring the blood rushing to her face. Longbottom was still playing his violin, which he refused to say where he got it from.

Opening up the trapdoor, slowly and watching the sleeping beast intently, Daphne motioned to Longbottom to come over. Peering inside the trapdoor, all she could see was inky black darkness. She wanted to conjure some light but hesitated at doing so and risking the Cerberus waking. Longbottom may react to slowly to save her.

Her thoughts were torn away from the darkness, as Potter hopped down, a gleeful smile spreading across his face, which Daphne had to admit looked slightly menacing.

Looking over to Longbottom, who was also staring down warily, she gave a quick glare – couldn’t let them think she was actually a bit afraid what lay in wait for them – and jumped down. She would never let anyone in Slytherin hear about this. She should be ashamed, but she couldn’t let Potter beat her, now could she?

Falling through the inky blackness, she was pleasantly surprised when she landed quickly, less so by the hard and knotty ground. Everything was still dark, lifting her hand up, she could barely make it out.

Sitting up, she reached for her wand. It should be safe for her to generate some light now. However, she froze when she felt her hand stuck in a vice like grip. Tugging her hand, her blood grew colder as she felt something run across her other hand.

Jerking her free hand away, holding it against herself, she felt another _thing_ slither against her legs, before suddenly coiling around it and jerking her forwards.

Yet, what should have caused her to cry out in fear, instead made her grin. She knew what this was. Devil’s Snare.

She had dealt with this many times as a child, in her family’s personal greenhouse and at the herbology classes she was forced to take when she was younger. And now. That knowledge could for once be useful.

Still grinning, she stilled, even holding her breath, forcing her body to completely still as she felt her other leg being trapped.

It was only a matter of time now. She was now completely still, laying against the Devil’s Snare, waiting for her to sink through. She only hoped Longbottom and Potter knew how to deal with this as well. Wait, did she want Potter to know?

But she tensed as she felt something rub along her chest, coiling around it as if preparing for… something.

In a flash, Daphne reached for her wand, pure anger flowing through her as the Devil’s Snare pulled, forcing the breath out of her. But she didn’t care. For once, she had found some use for those lesson’s as a child, but it had not worked. They were still completely useless.

However, that was not the worst thing. The Devil’s Snare was planning to kill her. A plant was trying to kill her, to extinguish the life of the Greatest Witch to ever live. Oh, it would pay. It would understand the meaning of pain.

Focusing her mind, she poured her anger through her wand, imagining only one thing in her mind. Willing it to form.

Fire.

She wanted Fire.

It happened in an instant. The night became day, as a maelstrom of fire erupted from her, twisting around the shrieking Devil’s Snare as it ate away at the parasitic plant.

Falling to the floor, she smiled as she landed, climbing to her feet. Eyes glued to the inferno in front of her. Yet, she felt no heat from the fire. Only joy. And definitely pride. Also, tiredness. Couldn’t forget that.

“I was about to do that, you know.”

Daphne scowled as she looked at Potter. Who was standing to the side, watching her with that gleeful smile still stuck on his face.

“You survived.” She said distastefully, causing Potter’s grin to morph into a mocking one.

“Couldn’t exactly let you go on alone. Now could I, Little Viper?”

Daphne harrumphed, turning her nose up to his mocking, before noticing the lying against the wall, illuminated only by the flickering firelight, was Neville Longbottom.

“Oh, he’s unconscious.” Potter explained, noticing her confusion, “Got knocked out when he landed badly next to me.”

“Then wake him up, Potter.” Daphne said, gracefully walking to the door close to her, well as gracefully as she could, as she could not shake the feeling of tiredness plaguing her bones, “I’ll see what’s up ahead.”

“Yes, your Majesty.” Potter sarcastically replied, as he kneeled next to her, “But if you notice anything that looks valuable, tell me.”

Ignoring the emerald-eyed boy, she strode through the door, wand at the ready. It could be another magical beast. Or another murderous plant. Or…

A pair of Goblins, sitting on one side of a large ornate desk, like the one in her father’s meeting room, arguing as they leafed through a stack of paper in front of her. Next to them, the headless bodies of two more goblins lay, with a bloodstained axe leaning on the table close to them.

“Ahh. Another one.” One of the Goblins said as she approached them, “Must be our lucky night eh Roggof.”

“Yes, my axe-mate. It must be.” The other Goblin, licked its jagged teeth hungrily, “Welcome human to the next trial.”

“And the hardest one.” The other cut in, standing on its chair, “Your challenge is one of extreme difficulty, requiring inhuman cunning and intelligence. It is to…”

Slamming it’s hand down on the table, causing it to crack slightly, it leaned forward and spoke dangerously, “Write a contract with us that is advantageous.”

“Which is impossible.” The other one smiled, before shooting a glare at the two bodies lying next to them, “Unless you are unworthy of the Goblin name that is.”

“Now, Human. Do you accept?”

Smiling, Daphne stepped forward, lightly sitting on the high-backed chair opposite the two Goblins, grateful for the chance to rest. She was Daphne Greengrass. She would show them what a true negotiator did. And never let it be said that Daphne Greengrass was cruel.

For she would make it quick.

**Neville POV**

Waking up to Harry Potter’s frowning face filling your sight would make any person confused.

So, needless to say Neville was confused.

“You’re awake.” Harry’s face lit up, the frown disappearing in an instant, “Good. Now we can go.”

“…Where are we again.” Neville grumbled, as he grabbed Harry’s offered hand, using it to pull himself up, still blinking away the black spots in his vision.

“The room under the Cerberus.” Harry replied, motioning up above them, “You knocked yourself out on the Devil’s Snare. Remember?”

Neville flushed red as the memory came back to him. Including the part where he played the violin just before. It seemed his secret was out. However, his eyebrows almost disappeared off his forehead, and all thoughts of his secret fell away, as he looked up to see only the burning remains of the plant, scattered pieces writhing their death throes as they were burnt to crisp.

“A bit excessive, don’t you think?”

“You shouldn’t be looking at me. That was all Greengrass’s fault. She’s obsessed with violence. Trust me.” Harry shrugged at his words.

Neville looked around, not seeing any sign of the Slytherin, “Where is she?”

Harry jumped impatiently, motioning to a door hidden in the shadows of the room, “Went through there about ten minutes ago.”

“And you aren’t worried about her?”

“Nope.” Harry replied instantly, before quickly walking towards the door, “Come on. We have to go before she does all the awesome stuff and takes the loot.”

“What loot?” Neville queried, stumbling a bit as he followed the eager boy, before finally pushing off the wall and standing steadily on his own.

“I don’t know.” Harry exclaimed excitedly, “And that’s what makes it great. Maybe it’s an Amulet of Strength, a legendary weapon.” His voice shot down to a hush, “Or maybe even some Dragon bone. It could be anything.”

Neville just looked at his crazed dormmate in askance, before finally accepting that Harry was slightly… abnormal and going through the door.

Only to be met with the headless bodies of four goblins laying together in a heap next to a large, ornate desk. And sitting on a highbacked chair, looking imperiously down at Neville was their missing Slytherin.

“You’re awake.” Daphne spoke softly, but Neville had very little trouble hearing it, “Good. Now we can go.”

Wordlessly, Neville continued gaping as her as he shook his hands in the direction of the goblins

“Oh, them.” Daphne waved off his accusations, “Don’t worry I didn’t do that. That was them. Did it as soon as we were finished here.”

“And when was that?” Harry questioned from the goblins’ bodies as he searched their pockets, Neville managed to catch sight of him slipping an elaborate ring into his clothes as he did so.

“Oh, just a bit ago.” Daphne said airily, standing up and walking to the door that would likely lead them to the next chamber, “The trial was very quick.”

“What exactly was it?” Neville asked, almost hesitant to hear the answer. Why would the goblins do this to themselves?

“Oh, it was simple.” The blonde haired Slytherin replied, opening the next door and peering inside it, a visible grin appearing on her face as she did so, “Like this will be.”

Curious, Neville passed through the door, joined by Harry, who looked longingly at the rest of the room. Inside, the room was dark, the only light provided by several torches that lined the wall. And, of course, the raging wall of fire that cut them off from the entrance behind it.

“Snape’s challenge.” Neville said distastefully, Harry echoing his statement with a frown as he looked at the series of potions on a pedestal in front of them.

“Like I said.” Daphne stated, looking down at the paper in front of her, before picking up the smallest bottle of potion, “Simple.”

Neville looked at the small vial cautiously, there wasn’t much, but certainly enough for the three of them.

“Only one way to find out.” Daphne shrugged, before offering it to Harry, “Drink.”

Harry raised an eyebrow as he turned away from inspecting the other potions, “Any reason why I should.”

“You landed me in this mess.” Daphne explained simply, “So, you drink first.”

“Well…” Harry started, drawing it out as he looked suspiciously at the vial, before shrugging as he took the vial, “Can’t argue against that.”

Then, with a flourish, he bought the vial up to his lips, taking a small sip. He grimaced at the taste, which Neville was sure Snape had done on purpose. Before turning to the fire and nonchalantly sticking his hand into it.

“Watch out!” Neville cried, grabbing his friend by the shoulder and pulling him away from the raging fire, “Why would you do that?”

“Simple.” Harry smiled, showing off his unharmed hand, before stepping through the fire, “Greengrass would attempt to make her revenge much more painful.”

Neville shook his head, lost for words, ignoring Daphne’s snort of agreement from the side. Giving up, he took the vial and took his sip. Gagging, he forced down the vile concoction. It tasted like liver that had rotten for at least a week, with a side of animal manure. Why Neville knew what that tasted like? He would bring that secret to his grave.

Still gagging, he passed the mostly empty vial to Greengrass, walking through the fire. He marvelled at how he felt no heat from the flames, watching as the flames danced over his hand as he bought it through them.

Reaching the other side, Neville looked back to see Daphne drinking her portion of the potion. He was mildly impressed at the lack of any sign of distaste on her face.

Then as she walked towards the fire, a confident smile on her face, her legs buckled underneath her. Neville watched on with a horrified amusement as the Slytherin hit the floor, coming to rest in a jumbled heap, like a puppet cut from its strings.

“Wow.” Harry spoke next to him, a large grin breaking out, “That was probably the best thing that I’ve ever seen.”

“Do you think she’s okay?” Neville asked, attempting to walk back through the flames, but he immediately recoiled as he felt heat starting to build up. The potion was wearing off!

“She’s breathing so probably. But it’s not like we can do anything about it. So, let’s go!”

With that, Harry whirled around and started walking to the archway that would lead them to their next challenge. With one more worried glance back at the fallen Slytherin, he sped up to catch Harry just as he passed through the archway.

Before them, a flight of steps led them down into another torchlit chamber. Standing in the middle of the chamber was a large, golden mirror, engraved with elaborate script that ran along the frame with the elegance of a flowing river. But what attracted Neville’s attention the most was not the mirror, extravagant and large as it was. But the figures in front of it. Or rather the two figures that Neville recognised.

“Professor Quirrell?” He spoke, his voice coming out in a shocked whisper as he tried to process what he was seeing.

“Mr Longbottom?” His professor spoke as he turned around to look at them, “Mr Potter? Oh, how good to see you.”

Neville shared a look with Harry, both porting the same confused look, before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Looking at this wonderful mirror.” His professor replied, as if it was obvious, “Did you know that it is charmed to see your hearts true desires? I only found this out when I entered. Truly a marvel of magic.”

“Sir,” Neville started again, eyes focused not on the mirror, but what lay next to it, casually lounging as it looked at them with interest, “Why is there a Sphinx with you?”

The Sphinx was golden, completely so. Its body was that of a lion, muscular and powerful. On her back, majestic wings sprouted, covered in feathers of gold and lazily resting against the floor. But her face was human. She had yellow eyes, ones that could be seen from far away, almost burning with golden flames. Her hair was gold as well, flowing down her shoulders to rest in a simple braid.

“Oh. Her?” Quirrell laughed, “She’s here to guard the stone of course. You need to answer her riddle if you wish to pas-

The turban-wearing professor was forced to stop speaking as he sneezed hard into a handkerchief that appeared in his hand. Then, it was followed by a multitude of sneezes, each one harder than the last. Till finally, silence reigned over the chamber as both students and the Sphinx stared at him with morbid curiosity. Although, Neville and Harry should be long used to this. This happened in every class after all.

“I’m allergic to dust.” The professor explained to the curious Sphinx, who just nodded then turned to continue staring at Neville and Harry.

“Where was I?” Quirrell muttered, “Oh yes! You must answer her riddle to pass. Else, you will die.”

“Painfully.” The Sphinx added in helpfully, still staring intensely at Neville, “Don’t forget that.”

“Yes, painfully!” Quirrell crowed, “So, I, of course, easily passed this trial.”

“Uh sir.” Harry spoke, next to Neville, “Do you mind if I – “

“Can ask me where my stutter wen-“ He broke off to fly into another sneezing fest, which luckily was much shorter than before.

The professor immediately returned to his previous point, standing tall, “Well, I will tell you. What you must understand Mr Potter, is that all along I was only acting like scared, stuttering Quirinus Quirrell. When all along I was Quirinus Quirrell, follower of the – “

Unfortunately, this sneezing fit was a long one, which left Quirrell hunched over, catching his breath. Neville hesitated, before prompting, “Follower of the…”

“Quirinus Quirrell, follower of the Dar- “

As the next allergic reaction occurred, Neville spied Harry slowly sneaking to the side, towards the Sphinx. What was he doing? He moved to stop his dormmate, but both were frozen in their tracks when a hissing voice sounded out, filling the chamber with a sense of danger and emptiness.

_“You dunce. Let me talk to the boy and get rid of the dust if you’re allergic to it.”_

Still breathing deeply, Quirrell hesitated slightly, before sighing and turning around to face away from the two curious boys. Reaching up to his turban, he slowly untied it. Slowly, piece by piece it fell away, Neville felt his stomach well up in an emotion he had not felt in a long time. Fear.

What was under the hood?

Neville supressed a gag as the last layer of the turban fell away, revealing what looked to be the most disgusting thing he had ever seen. On the back of Quirrell’s head, was another face. Misshapen and pale, eyes simply black sockets, joined with an endless pit of darkness as a mouth. The face seemed to be in constant pain with the skin seemingly stretched into many folds layered on top of each other.

But the worst was as he was looking at the face, he recognised it. The bubble of fear and tension in his stomach grew to fill his entire body as memories flashed through his mind. Of a woman screaming, a man laughing and a green light filling his vision.

“Voldemort.” He said unconsciously. The name escaping from him before he could even truly think about it. But he knew he was right. He knew that this was Lord Voldemort… He was alive.

 _“Neville.”_ Voldemort greeted back, his bottomless pit of a mouth stretching hideously to form a wide smile, _“How good to see you again.”_

Neville scowled, holding his wand tightly in his hand, before suddenly raising it up. Only for Quirrell to spin around and summon both his and Harry’s wands in an instant.

 _“Neville. Neville.”_ Voldemort said mockingly, _“Is this how you greet an old friend? With a wan-_ “

The Dark Lord was cut off by another of his host’s coughing fits, which Neville took as an opportunity to run towards the coughing professor. However, he was slammed into the floor as the professor recovered, flicking his wand in his direction. Next to him, Harry slammed to the floor, having mirrored Neville’s actions.

 _“Quirrell you fool!”_ Voldemort hissed, _“I thought I told you to get rid of the dust!”_

“I did master.” Quirrell protested weakly, “But I’m also allergic to sweat.”

_“Why did I get the most incompetent fool as my follower?”_

“Master, I swear I will be better. Remember you promised to cure me of them when you were reborn.”

“Reborn!” Neville gasped, surprise flashing through him. How would Voldemort do this.

 _“Yes, Neville. Reborn.”_ Voldemort smirked, _“You see. In the mirror lies the Philosopher’s Stone. The Greatest Alchemical Achievement in history, capable of turning lead into gold and giving life. Giving me life. And it’s only protection were a few trials and an unlocked trapdoor.”_

Neville cast a wide-eyed glance at the mirror, catching sight of Harry’s gaping mouth as the boy stared at the mirror in wonder. The Philosopher’s Stone? It was in Hogwarts! Neville had always wanted to see it, but he swallowed dimly as he realised his wish would be granted. But at the cost of giving Voldemort a body.

However, he quickly realised something, “Why don’t you have it then? You’re lying to us.”

Voldemort snarled, _“What would I gain from lying to you boy. It is in the mirror. But Quirrell is too useless to find it.”_

“I will find it Master. Just give me time.” Quirrell begged.

_“Then get to it you buffoon!”_

Quirrell reacted quickly, once again focusing on the mirror, but not before hitting Neville and Harry with a spell that bound them tightly against the ground. Voldemort muttered instructions to him as Quirrell began running his wand along the frame of the mirror.

Neville struggled against the ropes, straining his arms to try and break them free. But the ropes were like steel, not giving in even an inch and forcing Neville to continue lying there. Next to Neville, Harry was doing the same, even working at them with his teeth, only to stop with a groan.

“Their rock solid.” Harry whispered, “Can’t chew through them.”

Neville quickly looked around, focusing on finding anything that could help free them. However, there was nothing. They were lying on the floor, surrounded by nothing but air.

“Wait.” Harry whispered, drawing Neville’s attention, “I have a plan.”

Harry was looking intently to the side, looking at something that made Neville gasp. Of course, they were surrounded by nothing but air _and_ the Sphinx. But what was Harry planning?

“Hey!” Harry whisper-yelled at the Sphinx, drawing its attention. The Sphinx looked at them, amused, golden hair swinging gently behind her, “Come here!”

The Sphinx snorted, “And why exactly should I be doing that child?”

“Because I have a riddle for you. One I don’t think you can answer.”

In an instant, the Sphinx was standing before them, eyes blazing in anger as it glared down at Harry, growling it said, “Are you mocking me child?”

“Mocking you?” Harry said amusedly, “No. It is simply a riddle that I believe you will not solve.”

The Sphinx growled once again, bring its face closer to Harry’s, “Tell me the riddle then?”

“You sure.” Harry asked innocently, before grinning at the glare he was met with as he shrugged, “Your funeral then.”

“Tell me!” The Sphinx roared.

“Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

“What?” The Sphinx said, confusion on her face, mirrored by Neville.

“That’s the riddle.” Harry smiled, “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

“So, short?” The Sphinx hmphed, “This will be simple.”

Harry simply smiled at the Sphinx, before turning to Neville with a wink. Neville looked back at him, wishing he could speak to Harry with his mind. It would be extremely useful now. Such as finding out what Harry was doing?

However, no matter how much he wished. He did not suddenly gain the ability to speak with his mind. Instead, he settled for watching the Sphinx. She was deep in thought. Her lion tail swinging rhythmically as she pondered the riddle.

Neville had never heard of the riddle before. But it seemed simple enough. Only finding a common theme among two things. She should be done soon.

But time slowly passed by, each second feeling like eternity till finally, the Sphinx’s brows furrowed deeply, and it stared deeply at Harry.

“Does it have an answer?”

“Yes.” Harry nodded affirmatively.

Then, I- “ The Sphinx started, before it broke off, a look of anguish on her face, before it took a deep breath and continued with a shaky voice, “I do not know the answer.”

Neville blinked once. Twice. Three times. Before his heart almost burst as hope filled him. He now understood Harry’s plan. And he had to admit it was genius. Sphinxes were known for one thing. Always knowing the answer. Yet, here was one who could not answer a question.

“Do you want me to tell you?”

“Yes!” The Sphinx growled, wings fluttering, “Tell me!”

“I will.” Harry promised, before motioning his head in Voldemort’s, “But first, take care of him for me.”

“What?” The Sphinx growled, raising her voice haughtily, “You wish to command me?”

“Not command. No.” Harry shook his head, “But as an all-knowing Sphinx you know what he is going to do as soon as he finds the stone.”

The Sphinx’s haughty façade broke down as she seemed to ponder the emerald eyed boy’s point. Neville inched forward, heart welling up with hope as he waited for her answer. Would she say ye-

“No.” The Sphinx shook her, her face covered with a distraught expression, “There is nothing more important to a Sphinx than her pride. I will not let you manipulate me human. I am sure I will find the answer if I wish t- “

“What is happening here?” Quirrell’s voice sounded out as he stepped in to stand next to the Sphinx, “What are you talking abou- “

But then, as if by magic, Quirrell sneezed mightily. Taken completely unprepared by the sneeze, Quirrell could not bring a hand to block it, and sprayed mucus all over the direction he sneezed in.

All over the Sphinx’s hair.

Time seemed to come to a standstill. Quirrell was standing in the sneezing position, watching the Sphinx’s hair with horror. Said Sphinx was currently standing stock-still, before, slowly but surely, she dragged her head around to stare Quirrell in the eyes.

“You will tell me the answer?” The Sphinx asked, glaring at the rapidly paling professor, the air slowly crackling to life as a golden aura permeated from the air.

“Yup.”

“Very well then.” The Sphinx’s feathers were fluttering in an invisible wind, her hair rising up to flow behind her.

“Quirrell,” Harry started, staring at the man victoriously, before continuing, voice filled with smugness.

“GG.”

“But I’m allergic to cats.”

Then with a roar of magic, the Sphinx waved her paw to the side. Quirrell was struck by an invisible barrage and sent flying to the far wall. The paw swung back. Quirrell was sent flying back. Back and forth, the Sphinx sent the helpless professor and Dark Lord crashing against the walls. She was staring at him with so much anger in her eyes, that it almost seemed to set the air on fire.

Quirrell came to rest on the floor, broken and bloody. He was breathing raggedly, every breath sounding like a stick rattling against a cage. With a snort, the Sphinx floated the man in the air.

With a rush of magic, she roared at the man. Golden light shot out of her and blasted the professor. Bit by bit, Neville watched in fascination, as the professor seemed to dissolve into the air, first his legs, then body, arms and finally face. Neville breathed a sigh of relief as Voldemort’s face dissolved into nothingness, the hideous mass of flesh and skin hopefully disappearing forever.

Yet, his smile dissolved as something stayed behind. A writhing ball of pure inky blackness floated in the air, arcs of darkness and smoke flinging out from the orb. The Sphinx was looking at it with an idle curiosity as if intrigued by the actions of a new-born baby.

Suddenly, with an unnatural scream the ball exploded, sending Neville hurtling against the wall. Unable to protect himself, he hit the wall full on, his head hitting the floor as he fell. He groaned as his vision started clouding over with darkness.

The last thing he saw was a face appear from the smoke, one filled with anguished pain, with anger and a lust for revenge. Voldemort’s.

And then the darkness took over.

**Madam Pomfrey POV**

Poppy Pomfrey was used to having students in her wing for a myriad of reasons. Potions accidents, Quidditch. There were many reasons. But for each reason, there were more sicknesses and injuries. Broken bones, fever, boils, overgrown toenails. Everything.

Which was why as she put the potions on her tray ready to bring them to Harry Potter to treat him for magical exhaustion, she did not even find it surprising. This was only one of many times she had seen the boy in her wing this year. That Daphne Greengrass and Neville Longbottom were found with the same problem, a bit, but not even that caused her to bat an eyelid.

But, seeing Professor Dumbledore staring at Harry Potter as he awoke was surprising. Now, Poppy knew that Dumbledore cared for each of his students. But even so he was rarely in the hospital wing. To make it worse, she had no idea how she felt about that. While it was good for the students to be shown that they were cared for. Professor Dumbledore wasn’t exactly…

Sound of mind.

Brilliant. Of course. No one could doubt that. A genius beyond measure. But sane? Now that was debatable.

“Harry.” Dumbledore greeted brightly as he sucked at one of his lemon drops, infernal, unhealthy things that they were, “How good to see that you’re awake.”

However, it was his next words that caused her to grind her teeth in anger, “Would you like some Lemon Drops.”

“Please Professor. I feel like I haven’t eaten in days.”

Poppy scowled as she angrily stomped towards Potter’s bed, where he had joined the headmaster in sucking a lemon drop contentedly.

“Madam Pomfrey!” Potter brightly exclaimed as he saw her, “It’s great that you’re here. I wanted to see you one more time before the year ended.”

“Mr Potter.” She ground out, wand flashing out as she summoned a tray towards her and settled it on the boy’s bed table, “It would please me very much if I never saw you in here again next here, even more so if that time period stretches to never. Now eat”

“But what about the stellar conversations you must have.” Professor Dumbledore cut in, eyes twinkling madly, “From what I understand, Mr Potter is your most frequent patient.”

Poppy rounded on the headmaster, wagging her finger, “And you. Hand them over.”

Dumbledore’s cunning smile immediately turned innocent, as he hunched forward, drawing himself downwards to make himself look more vulnerable, “Poppy? I don’t understand.”

“Hand. Them. Over.”

Dumbledore just continued smiling at her, keeping his innocent act playing. However, Poppy would have none of them as she waved her wand once more, summoning all the lemon drops on Dumbledore’s person.

Instantly, she was assaulted with a tsunami of yellow sweets, causing her to duck with a yelp, the barrage just barely missing her and placing her in her own hospital wing. The sweets crashed against the wall, causing it to crack slightly.

Turning around with a huff, she immediately narrowed her eyes as she spotted Potter squirreling something away under his pillow. Summoning it, she was greeted with a – thankfully – smaller number of Lemon Drops. How many was Dumbledore carrying. No matter. She would put a stop to this. It was time to show who ran this school.

“No more of those toxins in my school.” She declared, daring him to disobey, “Or else I will get Minerva to take away your telescope.”

Dumbledore shrank back, eyes widening in fear. In a flash, he appeared before her, on his knees, begging before her, “Poppy! Please! I beg you! The solstice is coming up and if I want to beat that fossil Huber, I need that telescope. Please Poppy! Please!”

Poppy simply raised an eyebrow, “Then no more Lemon Drops.” Just to check, she ran her wand along the headmaster once more, who stood completely still, unwilling to earn her disapproval.

Satisfied that she had found nothing, she headed to her desk close by to prepare more potions.

“She truly is a force of nature. Isn’t she?” She heard Potter say, voice quaking in fear.

“No. She’s a Force of Nature. I’m fairly sure she can sense when you aren’t talking in capitals.” Dumbledore’s quiet voice responded, hushed, but not quiet enough. Poppy smiled contently to herself.

Dumbledore would be walking on eggshells around her for some time, which would bring some much-needed peace and quiet. Maybe she could finally convince him to stop the annual Teacher Bumper Car Game. She would never forgive Snape for his transgressions against her.

“True Professor. But why are you actually here?”

“Ah, my boy. Simply to tell you that due to you and Mr Longbottom, and Ms Greengrass’s heroics, the Philosopher’s Stone is safe and sound with the Flamels once again and Voldemort is nowhere to be seen.”

“But Sir, why was the Stone even here to begin with.”

“Simple my boy.” Dumbledore began, his voice sounding wise for once, “I thought it almost impossible to retrieve the stone here. Not only are the school wards incredibly difficult to penetrate. Furthermore, the trapdoor you entered was placed under the strongest enchantments I have ever personally placed, impossible to unlock magically and needing a key to do so. Indeed, I believe that I will be pondering for quite some time how Voldemort broke through the enchantments and opened it without the key.”

“Sir.”

“Yes Harry?” Poppy’s ears perked up at the sound of plastic being teared, a very familiar sound. He had another one.! She stood up and charged towards Potter’s bed, intent on catching the old man before he escaped.

“Voldemort said the trapdoor was unlocked when they entered.”

Arriving at Potter’s bed. She sighted him grinning at her, the wrapper of a Lemon Drop on his bedside table as Dumbledore walked towards the door.

“Well then my boy. That leaves only one explanation.” Dumbledore smiled at her, cheeks hollowing as he sucked on the Lemon Drop and opened the wing’s doors. Poppy gave him one simple warning glare.

“What’s that, Sir?”

“I forgot to lock the trapdoor.”

And with that, Dumbledore disappeared through the doors, Poppy running after him, almost leaving burn tracks in the ground as she ran after the fleeing old man.

Yet, behind her she heard the crowing laughter of a single, young boy, emerald eyed, with jagged, black hair, as he lay on his hospital bed. Probably enjoying his free entertainment, she thought vindictively.

Then faintly, she heard Daphne Greengrass moan out one sentence.

“Shut up Potter.”

**There we go. A second, much, much longer chapter finished. I plan on doing two chapters each for 2 nd and 3rd year. No idea what I’m putting in them, but 2 chapters per year.**

**Once again, please tell me what you enjoyed. Your favourite character, moment, anything. If you want, you can suggest some characters I can write a POV from. I’ll just come up with a random personality for them.**

**Talking about personality. I got a review that Ron was OOC. I couldn’t agree more, but honestly, all my characters are OOC in some respects, or all aspects. This fic is just for fun and nothing should be taken seriously.**

**Personal Favourite POV: Hagrid**

**Personal Favourite Moment: Dumbledore saying he forgot to lock the door.**

**Once again, I am making no political comment and till the next chapter. Which will take a while to make. Much longer than this one, probably.**

**Au Revoir**


	3. The War to End All Wars

**Welp, I’m back. Sorry about the delay, but apparently being quarantined is synonymous with having all your work for a two-year period placed into a 6-month period. That took away some motivation. But here’s a new chapter, so that’s good.**

**So, I hope you enjoy this.**

**Here cometh completely random stuff.**

**Fred POV**

It was time.

Time for the most important operation of his life. It was time for the event that would shape the rest of the Wizarding World for years to come. It was time that he showed George just who was the best.

It was Fred and George Weasley who would be remembered for millennia to come as the duo to face the all-powerful Hogwarts Teaching staff and win. Not George and Fred Weasley.

**“Gryffindor!”**

His head jerked up quickly as he spied the small first-year coming to join them. Quickly, he started clapping boisterously and whooping with his fellow housemates. Couldn’t do to act out of character and raise Monstrous McGonagall’s suspicion… well, more than before.

“It doesn’t feel like long ago when we were in her position does it?” His friend, Lee Jordan, nudged him.

“No.” Fred smirked at his brother, who shared his smugness, “Feels just – “

“Like yesterday.” His brother finished smiling, “McGonagall probably remembers it just as well. I was great that day.”

Fred raised an eyebrow, “You mean I was great that day, right, dear brother of mine?”

Lee shivered, ignoring the unspoken challenge conveyed between the twins, Fred spying the hair on the back of his neck raising, “Yeah, my hands have never felt the same since then.”

“What did she do?” Seamus Finnigan leaned across the table with a look of interest spread across his face, “Actually, what did you do?”

“We made history, my young apprentice.” Fred smiled in remembrance, “We made history.”

“The good kind or the bad kind?” Seamus replied wryly.

“The magnificent kind.” George answered as Dumbledore gave his customary oddball speech and food appeared on the table.

Oh, it had been the magnificent kind. Fred had never felt more alive than then. They had planned it on the train ride there, huddled in their compartment, plotting their rise to fame. It was their crowning achievement of their lives. Never before had the sorting day been so lively, so exciting, so… fun!

Out of nowhere, a card flew across the table to rest before him. On it a small animal was illustrated. It had white fur, with large innocent eyes looking up at him. On the top left of the card, it read ‘Basic Pokémon’ and under it, a small, three letter word lay.

“Sorry about that.” Harry Potter’s voice broke him from his thoughts as the emerald-eyed boy reached across to pick his card up, “I was trying a new shuffling technique, lost control for a bit there.”

Fred smirked internally, feeling George’s anticipation welling up across their bond. Meeting his twin’s eyes surreptitiously, that familiar competitive spark ignited between them. It was time.

Time for Operation Mew to Mewtwo. Whatever that meant.

Harry continued, “Can’t lose this card. A friend promised to give me his Mewtwo for this after the school year ends. Then I can finally say, ‘Mewtwo use confuse.’”

As one, Fred and his brother waved their wands under the table, casting the spell they had made certain to memorise during the summer.

For a short moment, nothing happened. Across from them, Lee was regaling the second years with tales of their adventures, animatedly waving his hands around as he enraptured them. Ron was stuffing his face with food, barely paying attention to what was happening around him.

Up at the teachers’ table, Dumbledore was talking with Professor Flitwick, drawing golden shapes in the air with his wand as he seemed to be arguing for something. Snape was sitting up straight, his face set in a permanent scowl as he watched over the Slytherin table imperiously. However, as Fred dragged his gaze to settle on McGonagall, he saw her looking straight at him with a suspicious frown on her face, her eyebrows furrowed as she seemed to inspect his very soul. He smirked as a look of dread crossed her face, likely having noticed something was wrong. She rushed to her feet, wand in hand, mouth opening

But it was too late.

With what sounded like the roar of thousands, all the bangers and chicken on the table exploded in clouds of multicoloured sparks, sending many students off their seats in surprise, Fred acted as if he was shocked, falling backwards with his brother.

But nothing could stop the small smirk from forming on his face as the sparks coalesced into almost tangible shapes. Blue nundus roared in his classmates faces, orange snakes curled around them. Dotted around the various animals stood towering giants, Fairies, their massive blades resting on their shoulders as they gazed around imperiously.

Fred was broken away from his thoughts when George bumped him with his foot. Looking over to his brother, he was motioned to look at the head table. Slightly turning his head, he gazed at the table from the corner of his eye.

McGonagall was striding down, wand waving around her as she marched towards her. He could see the smoke emanating from her wand, puffs of red and gold. She was angry. Well, time to make her mad. He drew his wand, holding it behind his back, softly muttering the trigger spell for their constructs. Fred was proud to say that he had been the one to come up with the idea, forcing even his brother to admit that he had been beaten this time.

As one, the creatures of fire darted around. Dragons charged into the students, an elephant trampled its way over the Ravenclaw table, a gryphon pounced on McGonagall, blinding her momentarily.

It was utter pandemonium, students rushed towards the large doors, all thought of food and McGonagall forgotten. Fred rolled to the side, barely missing the giant horde of Hippogriffs rampaging through the Gryffindor students.

“Mate!” He heard Lee shout from the side, he was staring at Fred in shock, protecting himself by hiding under the table, “When were you guys going to tell me this was happening?”

Fred simply grinned at his dreadlocks-waving friend. Grabbing his friend’s shoulder in tandem with his twin, he started hauling Lee away from the Gryffindor table, to the crowd of students desperately trying to escape into the entrance hall.

All around them many students were scattered, clumped into groups as they tried to defend themselves from the onslaught of the creatures around them. Fred and George had ensured that nothing fatal or life-changing would occur. Didn’t mean that being charged by a gigantic, rampaging acromantula wouldn’t make you afraid.

“Look up front.” George whispered, ducking to dodge a dive-bombing Kelpie, eyes glittering with excitement, “Here comes the best part.”

Fred scowled at his twin’s words, hearing the challenge hidden in his seemingly innocent words. While Fred had to admit he was slightly – _slightly_ – impressed with what his brother had done, it still wasn’t as good as his own contributions.

As if it had been rehearsed, the horde of students stopped in their tracks as if one unified entity, one in action and one in thought. And one word resonated among this group as they took in the sight in front of them.

“Merlin…”

Simultaneously, Fred and George smiled, pulling themselves to stand up as tall as they could, they spied the army waiting for the students in the entrance hall. Taking in the sight in front of them, all the noise from the flaming constructs seemed to disappear, to be replaced by only one repeated sound. A clucking sound.

Chickens covered the floor of the entrance hall, a mass of writhing white speckled with red and black. However, slowly but surely all the chickens stilled, turning to bring their piercing gaze onto the students assembled in front of them.

For a second, there was no movement, the two opposing parties inspecting each other. The students likely in awe of Fred and George’s impressive work, which Fred would ensure would never be known as George’s idea. And the chickens…

Oh, they were almost certainly fixated on the young wizards and witches in front of them. Fixated on the smell emanating from the group. It had been laughably simple to cover the seats of each table with the dust. Well at least for them, they had an inside man after all. And the rune system they had used ensured that a more than adequate number of the chickens were here.

Next to him, Fred spied his classmates and housemates drawing their wands, a sudden pressure bearing down upon them. The crackling of magic filled the air, Fred could swear he felt excitement exuding from it. Student after student arrayed themselves into a combat position as they prepared themselves.

And Fred and George?

Slowly, they inched forwards, wands clasped in hand. They knew what was coming next, and they knew what the odds were. Which meant they had to take part. What was it that Harry called it? Ah yes, roleplaying.

Second after second, the pressure surrounding them built up, reaching a crescendo of power that threatened to suffocate them. The situation had reached a breaking point, and only a small push was needed. One that Fred was all too happy to supply.

He whistled. The sharp, loud sound ringing for what seemed like miles.

In an instant, the world as Fred knew it changed. Both groups charged forward, spells lancing through the air, balls of black imploding into spheres of shadow, rolling over the chickens by the tens, causing the fake creatures to explode into clouds of multicoloured sparks. Waves of blue rolled over the frenzied fowls, sending them flying into the air.

Fred quickly summoned a shield, blocking one of the birds from the leaping down from atop the entrance hall doors and surprise attacking the students. All around him, students were being overwhelmed by the attacking avians. They were outnumbered fifty to one and the chickens seemed to have an almost endless number of reinforcements.

“Come on.” He shouted to his twin and friend as he charged forward, “We have to block them at the door.”

Together, they waded through the sea of enemies. Rings of fire surrounded them as they formed an arrow formation, other students joining their strike group. Fred conjured a large net, sending it falling down upon the small creatures. With a twirl of his wand, he lifted the net up and thrusting forwards, he sent it rolling over the chickens.

“Strike!” One of the second year’s, Dean Thomas, crowed as he cast a simple Wingardium Leviosa, lifting up one chicken and sending it sweeping across the ocean around them, using the animal as a club, “I could do this all da – “

Fred’s heart stood still at the cut off sentence. Whirling around, he saw the Gryffindor on the floor, desperately clawing at the floor for purchase as he was slowly covered by the animals.

“No!” Fred yelled in conjunction with his strike team, “Dean, hold on!”

He charged forward, desperately trying to reach the younger wizard. However, he and his twin were stopped in their tracks as they struggled to move against the onslaught of attacks and dive bombs, “Dean!”

“Go on without me!” Dean cried, throwing off the clucking creatures for a second, pointing his arm to the doors that seemed so close, but yet so far. He suddenly lost all his strength, his body collapsing to the floor powerlessly as he gasped one last time before he was completely covered by the birds, “Avenge… me.”

Fred stood there, helplessly and sorrow filling his heart as he mourned the loss of a fellow soldier. But he was cut off from his thoughts as fear welled up in his heart from a noise coming from above. Glancing upwards momentarily, he swallowed heavily as he saw the flock of birds diving towards them, whistling filling the air.

“Find cover!” George roared, tackling his brother to the ground as the surrounding students desperately tried to disappear in thin air.

Unfortunately, Hogwarts had anti-apparating wards. So, many could only accept their fate with a solemn gaze.

Screams filled the air as the chickens unleased their payloads, sending it flying downwards onto the students bravely standing their ground. Bodies hit the floor as both men and women rolled around in agony and terror, downed by the vicious aerial assault.

“Come on!” Fred pulled himself up, staggering forward to grab onto Lee, “We can’t let their sacrifice be in vain!”

Stumbling forward, sending banishing spells and _bombardas_ everywhere as they went, taking care not to cause any friendly fire. Eventually, they reached the doors, finding even more of the terrifying birds to be waiting behind them.

Quickly, they set up a defensive line, starting to dig some trenches to hide in. One of the seventh years conjured up two animated knights of stone, modelled after the Fairy Knights, to protect their flanks as they laid down suppressive fire on the reinforcements in front of them.

Then the fire came.

The only warning Fred had before the wave of fire hit was the sudden build-up of energy in the air. It washed over him, blocking his vision and coating him with a comforting warmth, reminding him of the Burrow, of home. Soft trilling sang into his ears, piercing into his mind, lulling him into a restful calm. Where once shock at the loss of his comrades had resided, peace reigned.

As quickly as it came, the warmth disappeared. Once the orange flames had gone, Fred had to rein in his shock at the sight before him. More specifically the lack of chickens in said sight. Confused, he turned around to look back at the Great Hall, spying it to be devoid of them as well.

Turning to look outside once more, Fred was about to question the disappearance, the magic should still have lasted a little longer, when he was met with the sight of a smiling, old, long-bearded man wearing absolutely amazing robes covered with images of phoenixes and… lemon drops?

Dumbledore. Dumbledore was the only answer that Fred needed.

“Yeah!” A voice screamed out from the side, “Go Dumbledore!”

One by one, more and more students joined the cry, raising their wands into the air and sending fireworks into the air as they chanted the powerful wizard’s name.

“Dumbledore! Dumbledore! Dumbledore! Dumbledore!”

Together, Fred and George joined in. Stamping their feet as they cheered with their peers. In his heart, Fred had never felt happier, never more satisfied. This was what he was meant for.

As Dumbledore bowed deeply to them, sweeping of his tall, pointed hat as he graciously accepted their thanks - though Fred saw the grin on the wizened wizard’s face - Harry Potter strode into his view, sending a small nod to the prankster with a sly grin on his face, pocket bulging slightly.

And that was the last straw. He burst into laughter, his eyes tearing up as he held onto his similarly laughing twin for support. Looking around, he saw many joining them as laughter filled the hall. Even the sight of a fuming McGonagall marching towards them, students parting for her as if she was death incarnate, a confused Neville Longbottom dressed in civilian clothes following her, couldn’t rob him of his glee.

He had certainly left his mark.

For Hogwarts would never forget this day.

The day of the Great War.

**Hermione POV**

“Er Hermione, what are you doing?”

Hermione jumped up in shock, whipping around, her heart filling with abject horror as she saw Neville staring at her in confusion. She had been found out. No! She had to fix this before they thought she was weird. No one could find out.

“What do you mean?” Hermione squeaked, as she hurriedly closed the large book she was holding, “I’m… I’m just studying – for Professor Lockhart’s class.”

“Lockhart?” Neville frowned, “I didn’t know that he wrote a book called “Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition: Volo’s Guide to Monsters.”

Hermione’s eye twitched as she quickly interjected, “He didn’t, I’m just cross referencing. You know, double check means getting a bigger cheque.”

“What’s a cheque?” Parvati questioned, joining the conversation from the other side of Neville, where they were walking to Professor Lockhart’s classroom.

Mercifully, she was saved from answering Parvati’s question by the blond, grinning adult man standing outside a door in front of them, vigorously speaking to their waiting classmates. Hermione swallowed nervously when she saw him. He seemed nothing like the teachers she was accustomed to. Normally, they were much more reserved, respecting the boundary between student and teacher. Here, Professor Lockhart had already slung his arm around Draco Malfoy and was animatedly telling him stories about his adventures.

“Then with wondrous dexterity, my partner, Sir Stonebeard dodged out of the way and his intelligence allowed him to send the ogre flying from the cliff. That was the day the Himalayan tribes came to know us as the Defeaters of the Forest Ogre.”

Hermione smiled absentmindedly at the professor’s words. She had always wanted to go on adventures. She remembered the time when she was around 4 or 5 and had pleaded with her parents to take her on a trip to the Amazon Rainforest so they could discover the hidden tribes. Unfortunately, the trip had never happened.

“But sir.” Nott started, causing Hermione to once again become aware of her surroundings as she hurriedly wiped away the smile. The book she had read has said that smiling out of nowhere was seen as the 5th step to madness, just after donating to a charity. Of course, this was a book written by a goblin, but Hermione ventured that it still applied humans, “How did a forest ogre get to the Himalayas?”

Lockhart smiled, “That young Mr Nott is a wonderful story that starts in a cabin in the middle of a floating castle.”

“Where? The Fairy Slaves’ palace?” Greengrass asked.

“Mount Montagne de Montana?” Seamus joined in.

“Where is that even?”

“Egypt. It’s in a crater caused by some silver circular disk that crash landed there thousands of years ago.”

“What about that weird tower in France?”

“You mean the Tower d’Espagne?”

“The one in Paris built by the hobgoblins to invade the moon?”

“That one.”

“Wait d’Espagne?”

“The hobgoblins were Italians.”

The flurry of chatter was bought to an end when Lockhart’s door banged open. A golden light burst out of the open door, washing over them and settling deep inside their bones with a comfortable warmth.

“Come now children.” Lockhart smiled brightly at them, motioning towards the open door, “Adventure awaits.”

With stunned expressions locked on their faces, the students walked forward, entering the classroom. Hermione had to stifle a gasp at the sight that met her, her eyes widening in surprise and glee.

Lining the walls, several suits of armour floated, Mongolian, European, Zulu. However, floating, just behind what seemed to be the teacher’s desk, hung a large, blood red suit of armour. The sunlight streaming through the windows bounced of the shining armour, washing the classroom in a faint red light.

Shaking her head, Hermione wrenched her thoughts away from the suit. Lockhart was rushing them towards the seat, his white teeth glinting in the sunlight as he beamed at them.

“Now students.” He started, sweeping towards the front of the room, “Welcome to your first Defence Against the Dark Arts class of your second year, and the start of what I believe will be your first foray into the adventurous life of a wizard.”

“Adventure?” Parvati asked, sitting next to Hermione, which made her slowly move away and hide her… study material under her other books. These seats were set up entirely different to last year. For the first time, Hermione had to sit next to someone in a class that wasn’t potions, or god forbid transfiguration.

Slowly, but surely, she straightened up, trying to stop slouching in front of her dormmate. What was the book had said over the summer? Yeah, posture! However, her mind blanked at what posture she should have had.

Stealthily, she reversed her straightening, maybe she was supposed to sprawl. She should act cool, calm and rogue-lik –

“Now, as I am sure you all know. I am Gilderoy Lockhart!” Lockhart saved her from further embarrassment, continuing his speech with a captivating smile. “I am a writer, hero, wizard, scholar and, dare I say it, rogue-extraordinaire. But for now, I am none of that. Now, I am your teacher.”

He swung around, a previously unseen cape fluttering in some absent wind, spreading his arms to the class, “And what is it I will teach you this year you ask? I think it is easier to say what I will not teach you.”

Suddenly, his wand appeared out of nowhere, materialising from thin air. With a grandiose flourish, he submerged them in a mythical world.

Green surrounded them. On the trees, on the ground, on the water, on the large lion-like creature sneaking up to them…

“I will not teach you to run.”

As one the entire class sprung away from the stalking predator, one girl screaming as the large cat jumped towards her, fangs glistening in the sunlight, green mist streaming out of its mouth. But as it hit her, it morphed into a cloud of bubbles, filled with startlingly vivid violet light.

“I will not teach you to feel fear.”

Out of nowhere, a gruesome face appeared on the bubble, eyes burning bright violet as it shot towards her. Her blood ran cold as she faced the incoming creature, her eyes locked on the bulging eyes that ran with pus and blood.

“For, instead, my young students.” Lockhart said as the bubble swallowed Hermione and Parvati, who’s hand Hermione realised she was holding.

“I will teach you to adventure.”

With a gentle wave of his wand, the pit of darkness they were in transformed into an oasis. Palm trees filled her view, waving in the wind caused by the gentle flap of a large black dragon’s wings. From the majestic beast came a deep grumbling, one that she could barely hear.

“Daar lein los dii.”

Then, with a dismissive snort, the wings surged into a powerful flap, causing wind to buffet Hermione, to send her flying backwards – into her seat.

She sat there breathless, her mind-racing, from fear or excitement. She did not care. All she knew was that in that moment, being charged by the grotesque head, the snarling beast or the taking in the glorious sight of the king of beasts, she had never felt more alive.

“Now then.” Lockhart smiled and clapped his hand, “After that wonderful trip, granted to us by the holy magic of illusion, I say we move onto the next part of the lesson. Tests to check what you remember.”

Almost immediately, there was a collective groan as her fellow classmates recovered from their trip, taking in the mundane life of the real world once again. But Hermione did not groan, her heart didn’t miss a beat at the announcement of a surprise test. Instead, her mind was focused on what she had just experienced.

If that was real, her breathing quickened, blood pumping audibly through her veins, then she had never before been more interested in the world of magic. She was so distracted that when she received her test, she completed in in a scant few minutes, her hand in autopilot all the time. She didn’t register the questions, didn’t need to. She had studied so much the knowledge was almost completely ingrained into her body.

So, on autopilot was her hand however, that she didn’t realise that she had accidently taken out a piece of paper and was staring at it intensely as she thought. Even worse was that it was a piece of paper that she didn’t want anyone to see. Even worse than that, however, was that she could feel the presence of Lockhart as he looked over her shoulder at what she was holding.

“Well, well, Ms Granger” Lockhart shook his head, causing Hermione to suck in her breath as she begged he had no idea what the paper meant, “Using notes during a test. Problematic. That will be an hour’s detention after class today.”

Hermione sagged slightly in relief, merely nodding her head in deference to avoid letting the joy bubbling inside her from bursting out. Bad Hermione, she scolded herself, don’t laugh for no reason while being punished by a teacher.

“Good, and I hope there won’t be a repeat of this Ms Granger.” Lockhart gave her another stern look, before his bright smile reappeared on his face as he waltzed to the front of the class, “I believe that is time my good students. If you could please set your quills down, no more writing please.”

Immediately after she had placed her paper on the desk, it was whisked away, flying to Professor Lockhart before finally coming to a rest next to the Professor together with all the other tests.

“No need to worry,” Professor Lockhart grinned, “I will make sure to have all the tests marked by next lesson. And with that, we are done.”

Hermione’s smile was strained as her classmates passed her, talking among themselves, with Harry sending a big thumbs up and murmuring some indiscernible words, before sweeping out of the door. He had been rather strange recently, spending most of his time alone hidden somewhere in the castle. The entire Gryffindor year was holding their breath, for a distracted Harry was a foreboding sign for the future peace of the school. But Hermione had bigger problems now.

“Ms Granger” Lockhart said with a disapproving frown as he shook his head, “I find it difficult to express how shocked I am.”

“Sorry sir –“ Hermione started nervously, only to be cut off.

“Truly, I was not expecting this.”

Hermione swallowed, “Apologies sir.”

“An utter travesty.”

“Forgive me sir.”

“A crime against all wizard-kind.”

“Regret fills me sir.”

“For you to have to hide your inner adventurer.”

“… Sir?”

The professor waved his hands dismissively, disgust spreading across his visage, “Do I truly have to repeat myself Ms Granger? I know you heard me the first time, and truly I find it almost criminal that you attempted to hide this from me.”

Hermione deigned to stay quiet, unwilling to incur the professor’s wrath. But even then, she did not understand what was going on. Professor Lockhart was not responding to his discovery as she had expected. Confusion? She foresaw it! Annoyance? She welcomed it. But not when she didn’t understand what was annoying the older wizard.

Lockhart sighed, before continuing on softly, “Ms Granger. I understand that this might be slightly confusing for you, however, you must realise that when I saw what was on the paper I was overjoyed.”

“But why were you then annoyed sir?” Hermione interjected.

“Because I saw how you reacted when I caught you, Ms Granger.” Lockhart answered patiently, his gaze burrowing into her brown eyes, “I don’t believe I would be wrong in saying that you were panicking at first. Inside you were wondering how I would react. Would I eye you with that nervous air a person has when looking at a crazy person? Or would I simply sigh in disappointment that you find it difficult to conform to society? Am I correct, my young student?”

“…” Hermione didn’t answer, unable to formulate any thoughts. How did Lockhart almost word for word dissect her thought process? How did he – “

“Know?” Lockhart smiled kindly, his eyes seeming to sparkle with a fathomless deepness, “Because, just a few decades ago I was you Ms Granger. But more on that later. I believe it’s time that we move on.”

“Move on?”

Her question received no answer as Lockhart spun around, his robes whipping into a frenzy as the blonde professor seemed to receive a slight dosage of crazy. Hermione backed up as the hair on her neck stood up from the magic infusing the air. Slowly, Lockhart became surrounded by a blinding white light, blooming from out of nowhere to fill the room.

Covering her eyes, Hermione waited for the light to diffuse as she was buffeted by sudden winds, which it did only a few seconds later, the gusts of winds fading away as quickly as they came.

Tentatively, she lowered her hand from her eyes, blinking away the dark spots that had appeared in her vision, only for her to freeze at the sight in front of her, her mouth hanging open in a soundless question.

Professor Lockhart stood tall in front of her on the raised dais where his table used to be. His black professor robes had disappeared, replaced with a worn threadbare robe that flashed through colours at such speed that Hermione grew dizzy from watching it. In his hand, a cracked wooden staff rested, a large orange jewel at the end emitting miniature rays of electricity.

“Well.” Lockhart began with his new patchy beard, then a full white beard, started, “Welcome to the world of Imaginers Ms Granger. Where among other things, we created D&D.”

Then he stepped forward, offering a smooth hand, “In other words. Welcome to a world of adventure.”

**Daphne POV**

“So, Greengrass, any reason you’re talking a walking in the forbidden forest at midnight on a full moon?” Potter’s infernal voice echoed out from the side.

Daphne’s eyebrow twitched at the question, anger invading her mind. She had planned out this night for the past month, every detail, every potential problem, every Merlin damned way this night could go.

But how was she supposed to know that she would find Potter out here. It was pure suicide for a normal student to even attempt to walk through the forbidden forest at night, even more so during a full moon. Therefore, excluding her, no other student should be here, leaving her alone to attend the gathering. Of course, she should never have applied logic to Potter’s actions. But now she had to get rid of him.

“Any reason you think I need to tell you?” Daphne shot back; her elegant eyebrow raised in a way that she hoped conveyed her disdain for Potter, “Even better, why are you here? What happened to the Gryffindor way of following the rules and respecting authority?”

“This is the way, Greengrass.” Potter replied with a maniacal grin, “A wise old man once said that a wizard is never strange, nor crazy, but instead normal, with everyone else being deranged.”

Daphne stared at him in silence, her face completely blank as she struggled to process what the emerald eyed boy had said. Instead of answering, she decided to revert to a common tactic she – and many others – used when dealing with Potter. Ignoring what he had just said. Now to send him away.

“I don’t care Potter.” Daphne growled, subtly readying her wand, “If you would pleas- “

In a flash her wand was out, her mind forcing a lance of ice out of her wand and sending it straight towards the target of her ire. Immediately, she ducked to the right, just barely dodging the invisible wall of force that brushed past her, causing her sleeves to flutter.

Quickly, she created a field of magic in front of her, just in time to catch the ball of lightning that Potter had thrown towards her. Then, underneath the irritatingly sly boy, the ground burst open, swallowing Potter’s right foot and holding it firm.

Unfortunately, Daphne hadn’t emerged out of their fight unscathed. While she was busy casting her wall and controlling the ground, she had failed to notice the glowing rune that she had stepped upon. The moment it came into contact with her foot, she lost all feeling in her leg, causing it to buckle, making her fall to one knee on the floor.

Inwardly berating herself for her mistake – how could the greatest witch of all time fall for such a simple trick after all – she forced herself to stand, unwilling to show any weakness.

“Isn’t it dishonourable to place a trap there even before our fight.” Daphne breathed out to Potter as she steadied herself, her breaths leaving her in puffs as she gasped for air.

Potter just laughed as he focused on breaking the stone encasing her feet, “But effective Little Viper.”

Irritation gnawing at her for the terrible nickname, she responded by simply sending a flicking charm at his head. But of course, she was forced to move her head to the side to dodge Potter’s simultaneous teeth enlarging charm.

“Jealous?” Daphne asked mockingly, showing her pearly, white teeth to the boy. Rolling his eyes, Potter finally managed to destroy the stone on his foot, at the same time as Daphne finally managed to regain feeling in her leg as the glowing rune disintegrated as it lost its magic.

Daphne would never admit it, but she had to admit that she enjoyed this tradition of theirs. A tradition that had evolved from their growing understanding of each other. Although she would admit she didn’t understand Potter. Even after waking up in the hospital wing after supposedly helping save the Philosopher’s Stone, she did not understand her classmate.

Potter was crazy. Very few would disagree with her assessment of the spectacled boy. However, it was Potter that Daphne was rivals with. It wasn’t Longbottom, who she had expected to be her greatest competitor in controlling magic. Instead, it was Potter who discovered a new or forgotten branch of magic by accident. A muggle-raised Gryffindor whose idea of magic originated from made up realities. It wasn’t Malfoy or her fellow Slytherins that forced her to use her cunning, it was Potter, who constantly pushed her into situations she had not prepared for.

Like this one. She had not known Potter would be here, that she would be slinging speels that could take down any other wizard or witch her age bar the one standing in front of her. But it had happened, and while it was a draw, she had learned. Of the importance of knowing the layout of her surroundings, of how to divert an opponent’s attention.

“In awe of my magic?” Potter inquired smugly, eyes twinkling madly as he gestured to her recovering leg, “Yrden. A little trick I picked up over summer.”

“Not awe.” Daphne replied back bitingly, “Annoyed. Who decided to teach you runes?”

Potter shrugged, “Myself. Well, I’m still learning. That’s the only one I can use right now.” He bought out a pack of cards from his side pocket, “I want to use them for these. They’re the reason I’m out here tonight. I need a specific ingredient.”

Ignoring the use of tonight, she nodded, “Seeing as I know I can’t get rid of you without attracting the attention of all the dangerous creatures living in this forest, when we walk, be quiet and don’t touch anything that seems out of place.”

Then, turning around before she could see Potter’s answer, she walked onwards to her original goal in coming here.

Time passed slowly as they walked through the forest. The moon’s silver rays shone through gaps in the trees, lighting their path and the numerous eyes of the nocturnal creatures staring down upon her and her annoying partner.

Her eyes were constantly moving as her gaze roved around the forest, looking for that tell-tale glow of red. Well, that supposed tell-tale glow, seeing as she had only read about this flower in half-disintegrated books from the Restricted Section of the library. It would be almost impossible for her to find this flower, said to be extremely rare, its properties only coming about when a ray of light from the full moon fell upon it. It could assuredly be said that no one had found one in… centuries?

She slowed to a stop, Potter mimicking her, as her gaze fell upon a delicate, young flower. Its petals were a soft red, glowing with a mesmerising beauty. The moon’s light seemed to bend around the flower, forming a horizon of light against the blackness of the night. In other words, in front of her was the exact flower she was looking for.

Almost questioning whether she was seeing correctly, she slowly walked forward, eyes locked onto the small flower. What were the chances that she would find this flower tonight? What were the chances that she would ever have found it? It was almost fantastical, an act of magic surpassing even the understanding of herself and any other magical. This flower was supposed to be extinct, with Daphne looking for it tonight to just want to confirm it herself. She had not expected to actually find it.

“This what you were looking for.” Potter asked, his face awash with delight as he walked next to her.

Daphne murmured a simple yes, before ridding herself of her wonder as she reminded herself that she could not reveal anything in front of Potter. She was Daphne Greengrass, the Greatest Witch of All Time, not Daphne Greengrass, the girl with an idiotic-looking confused expression on her face.

But even then, she could scarcely believe it as she reached forward towards the plant, this would greatly benefit her plans. This would make the true start of –

“Now what are humans doing here?” A gravelly voice sounded from the side.

In a flash, Daphne whirled around, wand aimed towards the source of the voice as she crouched to be ready to jump to the side at any moment. To her side Potter stood ready as well, wand-tip glowing with an electric blue light as a barely visible distortion formed in both their off hands. A trick that Potter had learned from her, she thought smugly, ignoring that she had copied his earlier Force push technique.

However, instead of being met with the sight of a centaur, as she had expected, she was met with something far worse. Fairies.

Standing in front of her and Potter, two gigantic humanoid beings stood, massive swords – larger than Daphne – hanging from their shoulders. Even then, Daphne did not relax, Fairies were known to be extremely quick despite their large size, especially squires - as the colours of the tattoos on their arms identified. They wore no armour, with simple clothes covering them, with the cold being no problem for a fairy.

“Will you not answer us?” A second, softer voice spoke, as between the two squires, the darkness of the night twisting into a pale, smaller fairy. A woman this time, Daphne noted. She wore a long flowing dress, with only her arms being bare… displaying the worrisome sight of a green mark.

“Only when you tell me what you are?” Potter spoke before she could even begin to think a response. Inwardly she screamed at the question. Fairies were not often benevolent and being asked such a rude question could be seen by some as an invitation to… learn some respect from the Grim Reaper. She prepared herself to fight, keeping her eyes locked on the pale woman, as dangerous as the squires were, the woman was infinitely more dangerous. What would she do, go for Daphne as Potter had just exposed himself as newer to the Wizarding World?

Or she would simply smile and with a small giggle answer Potter, “We are Fairies young one. The nobility of the forest.”

Potter perked up, eyes gleaming, “Fairies? But I th – “

Daphne cut of the Gryffindork before he landed them in more trouble. She had forgotten one large factor when dealing with Fairies. They were utterly unpredictable, “Excuse us. We did not know that we were in the presence of Fairies.”

“Truly?” The woman questioned, turning her gaze to Daphne, her black eyes swirling with impossible to glean thoughts, “Then I believe only one thing can be done.”

“We apologize for any transgressions we have done to you.” Daphne said, leaving out the expected my lady. Powerful as the fairy was, she would not bow. Daphne Greengrass did not bow.

The fairy laughed, her eyes suddenly alighting with happiness as she bounded forward and took Daphne’s hand, taking her by surprise, “Of course, young one. It has been sometime since I have seen a human. Come join our celebration.”

Really, she would have to replace the term unpredictable with crazy, she thought as the Fairy rushed away, summoning Potter to her other hand as she led them deeper into the forest. The two squires followed them, the ground shaking from their powerful strides. Longingly, she momentarily looked backwards at the quickly disappearing flower, promising herself that she would get it.

Seconds later, they arrived at the celebration. A typical fairy event she noted. Centaurs, goblins, spirits, ghosts, monsters and fairies roamed everywhere. With an airy giggle, the fairy holding her hand let go, her black dress changing into a sky blue, illuminated by the fairy lights that hung in the air.

“Welcome to the All Hallows Eve celebration, young ones.” She giggled, her green mark glowing slightly as she summoned an iron cup to drink from. Momentarily she shivered when coming into contact with the cups, her eyes lighting up with delight as she drank. Daphne took the cup offered to her by one of the squires.

“To the spirits of tomorrow.” Daphne murmured, taking a sip from the honey-like liquid.

“To the spirits of days gone.” The fairy responded airily, before rushing away in a flurry of leaves, leaving Daphne alone with herself and…

Where was Potter?

Growling, she whirled around, spotting the dark-haired boy questioning a fairy to the side. As she approached the duo, she watched as the fairy seemed to grow steadily more terrified, the powerful squire almost turning into himself as Potter assaulted him with questions. She would never admit it, but that made Daphne smile momentarily. Even the fairies had no idea how to deal with Potter apparently.

“Excuse us.” She said to the shivering fairy, pulling Potter away from his torture victim.

“I was busy Greengrass.” Potter complained, snagging a bowl of honey bread from a nearby table as she dragged him to the side. By the time she finally stopped pulling him, all she saw of the bread was him pouring most of it into his bag.

Potter looked up to see her staring at him, responding only with a short, “Never know when you’re going to need it. I promise, I’m not a hoarder.”

Daphne huffed, not believing how casually Potter was taking this. “Can you be serious for once Potter. You have no idea how much danger we are in right now.”

“Oh!” Potter excitedly said, almost vibrating with enthusiastic energy, “Are the fairies a murderous group devoted to preserving Earth in its most natural state and therefore hate humans for how we have destroyed and desecrated the earth?”

Daphne paused, not sure how to respond, “… Yes and no.”

Potter smiled brightly, scaring Daphne slightly – no not scaring, unnerving her, yes unnerving, much better than scaring, “Yes!” He pumped his fist slightly, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

He looked around frantically, seeming to search for something, “Maybe if we look hard enough then we can find a hidden door leading to their secret lair where the fairies are holding a meeting on when their next human sacrifice to appease humanity will be.”

Daphne shut him up quickly, and effectively, using the refined and elegant technique of covering his mouth, “Potter! Don’t let anyone hear that!”

Then bringing him into a corner where they could speak without many eavesdroppers, she pushed him into a seat.

Then, breathing deeply, then out, she started, “Potter, I just want you to listen alright. Keep all and any unwanted and senseless comments to yourself.”

Curious, the Gryffindor boy nodded, eyes focused on her own, almost intensely so, but Daphne would not back down. So, starting into his eyes, she began.

“First thing you need to know about fairies. They are completely and utterly unpredictable. The woman from earlier was an example of that. You saw how at first, she was almost threatening us, then suddenly it was as if she was a six-year-old. You must always be careful around them. Without a moment’s notice they will attack at even the smallest slight, or you could kill their entire family in front of them and they might only just laugh. They are nature incarnate, and therefore they are just as wilful as nature.”

Then, motioning to the opposite corner, she forced Potter to see the diminutive, glowing being floating in mid-air while talking to a vampire – a pure one, she noted idly.

“And that there is a Fae. Just like the fairies, they are completely and utterly unpredictable. Dangerous at one moment, your best friend the next. Extremely similar to the fairies, but for one small detail.” She paused to let Potter absorb the information, noticing that for once he no longer had a maniacal gleam in his eyes, but now instead there was one of wonder and… contentedness?

She continued, “They cannot stand being around each other for long periods of time. No one understands why, but the innate magic that makes up the fae and the fairies contradict each other, almost as if one is light and the other dark. It truly is one of life’s great mysteries, how beings so similar can so utterly detest each other at times.” She smiled as she remembered the next part, having found it ironic when she first heard it, “After all, they are so similar that at one point they even switched names.”

Potter drew up in shock, “Switched names? What do you mean?”

Daphne smirked, enjoying the moment of superiority over Potter before continuing, “I mean that at first the Fae were known as the Fairies and the Fairies were known as the Fae. And” She continued before Potter could ask the obvious question, “the reason is actually quite simple.”

“Long ago, before the Founders and Merlin, the Fae and the Fairies existed in an uneasy state. Each hated the other but dared not to attack each other because of the number of deaths the resulting war would cause. However, believe it or not, because they are both quite similar, both groups hatched the same plan.”

“We,” She motioned to her and Potter, “As in humans, had no idea that the Fae or the Fairies existed as they had hidden from us. Therefore, on the same night, both the Fairy and Fae armies attacked a human kingdom, the Fae screaming they were Fairies and the Fairies screaming that they were the Fae. Both wanted the humans to attack the other and help them in wiping them out.”

Now came the best part, she thought as she took as sip from the iron cup to wet her throat, “So, for the next few generations, both groups attacked humans, claiming to be the other. It reached a point that entire groups of Fae and Fairy children grew up being told to introduce themselves as either Fae or Fairy when seen by a human. So, after centuries, after the reason was long forgotten and a devastating war between the Fairies and Fae had wiped out large swathes of the adult population, each group adopted their name as we know them know. Today, the Fae and the Fairies both reject this story, saying that it’s just another human folktale, and that there never was and never will be a time when the Fae will call themselves fairies and vice versa. But we know the truth.”

Coming to a close, she watched with satisfaction as Potter sat silently, obviously shocked at what he had heard. How many could say that they had shocked Potter into silence. Very few, she believed. But to be fair, she had been the same when she heard the story as a child.

“Wow.” Potter finally breathed, “To change your name to an enemy’s.”

Daphne nodded, “The Fae and Fairies are unpredictable. They do not act like normal humans. For example, take this.” She lifted her cup to emphasise her point, “It’s made of iron, just like every other cup here is.”

“And?”

“Iron is poisonous to fairies. It gives them pain when they touch it” Daphne responded, smiling at managing to shock Potter again, before she motioned to the side, “But look at them.”

Together, they watched the multitude of fairies hold and drink from their iron cups, their faces alight with delight as they seemed to shake with pleasure from the pain.

“They are not what we consider as normal, Potter. They even plate their knights with iron as a ‘reward’” Daphne said, “Like you said before, many hate humans and would not hesitate to kill us for destroying nature. That is why, whenever you are around them, be careful.”

They sat in silence, both just observing. Daphne felt as if she back home, attending another ball, watching the lords and ladies of the wizarding world talk, dance and fight. She had enjoyed it, watching, while she talked with her sister. She missed it.

“So, what about that flower from before?” Potter’s voice broke her from her thoughts.

Daphne sighed, for the first time thinking back to her original goal in the forest, “Unfortunately, it’s too close to this place. That means it’s a fairy grove, meaning I can’t just go and pluck it when it is fully grown.”

Potter nodded, “But I know you Greengrass. What’s your plan?”

“Simple.” Daphne said, grabbing her iron cup and willing her magic to cover it with ice. After a few moments’ effort, she breathed deeply as she centred herself from the experience. Using intent magic always tired herself out, although in battle, adrenaline usually served to help her ignore it, “I hit the grove keeper from earlier with this.”

Finishing speaking, she whipped her wand forward, sending the iron cup flying straight at the fairy standing a bit away. Just before it hit her, the fairy caught it without looking. Slowly, she turned to look at Daphne, gazing deeply into her eyes. Until, with a blinding smile, she nodded and turned back to her earlier conversation.

“And that was?”

“A challenge, Potter.” Daphne sighed, “In around two and a half years’ time I will fight her for the flower. Winner keeps it.”

“Nervous?”

Daphne didn’t answer for a moment. Was she nervous, after all, without this, she would not be able to complete her goals? Without it, there would be no meaning and motivation for her to become the Greatest Witch of All Time. But inside, she knew that she would, could not fail.

“What do you think?”

Potter smiled, a glint appearing in his eyes, one that Daphne didn’t know she had shared just a few seconds ago, “I think it could be helpful to use their tools against them. Hit em with what they won’t expect.”

“Such as?” Daphne leaned forward, curious.

Potter grabbed his pack of cards from earlier, “Some hate humanity don’t they. So, use tools that are perfect for going against humanity them.” He threw the cards on the table.

Curious Daphne leaned forward, spying a name on the side of the pack and then sighing.

“Potter.”

“Hmm?”

“You’re crazy and an idiot.”

After all, what help would these Cards Against Humanity be?

**So, what did you think? Enjoyed it? I hope you did.**

**I will be honest; I have no idea what happened with me during the Weasley and Daphne chapters. I just came up with the most out there stuff, but I enjoyed writing it. But seriously, I could not get out the identity problem fairies from my head.**

**No idea when I’ll update next.**

**Favorite Pov: Fred**

**Favorite Moment: WW1 esque chicken dive bombs**

**Adios**


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